Lucy the blind dog (who is a Shar Pei, apparently) has been laying in my hallway all morning. I thought she was just tired at first, but even after Johanna filled up her doggie dish with yummies, Lucy didn't get up. Finally about an hour and a half ago, Abby decided to "wake her up" and get her outside. Lucy TRIED to obey, but she just couldn't get off the floor.
So I called Lucy's Daddy. "This is Trisha," I said. Silence. "I have your dog," I added.
"Trisha! How's it going?"
You know, Lucy's Dad, it's been better. Your sweet dog has been in my hallway all morning, and we thought she was just settling in and tired, but Abby tried to get her up and she wants to, but she won't. Or can't. I don't know, but she hasn't been outside yet, or eaten anything, and it's 10:45.
He was very calm. This happens when she gets overheated. Her muscles seize up and it's too painful for her to move. No biggie, go look in that brown pack and there should be a hypodermic needle there with some pain reliever. See it?
Okay, in another pocket there should be a clear container. Liquid doggie meds. They make her puke, that's why it's Plan B. See that?
Nope. I've got the entire contents spread out on the deck. Then I go grab Lucy's box of paraphernalia and dump that out. (Probably I should go clean that up, now that I think about it.) There's nothing that looks anything remotely like meds or a needle.
New plan: He'll call his vet and maybe we can get a prescription and all will be well. He'll call me back.
Excellent. I call Eric, tell him the situation, and luckily he's in a good stopping place and I can call him and let him know the plan and he'll take care of it. Cha-ching, no doggie shots in my future today, hallelujah.
Lucy's Dad calls back. So as it happens, Lucy's vet is on vacation! So Lucy has to have an appointment. There's only one vet here who could take her today, it's at 3 p.m., is that okay?
No problem, Eric has comp time up the yang, he's on it. Which made Lucy's Dad feel bad. I'm like, I'm the one who waited to call you about your dog and I've probably killed her and you're worried about Eric's comp time?
Lucy's Dad has assured me that this is no one's fault (pretty sure it's mine, though) and that it's going to be okay. And if it's not, that's life.
Oh, God. PLEASE let Lucy live.
I'll update tonight.
Friday the Thirteenth (!): Oops, I didn't update last night. Well, I'm easily distracted, I think we all know that. First things first: Lucy is fine. About ten minutes before I left for work, she actually got up on her own four shaky legs and ate her breakfast. At 12:30, so maybe it was really lunch. Then Abby took her outside and promised to get her to drink something. I called Lucy's Dad, who was all, let's keep the appointment because then you can get some meds for later, just in case, and I was all, that is a good plan, especially since Eric was already getting off work anyway.
Apparently vets hate Shar Pei's because they're like "old cranky people with dementia" (a quote from Lucy's Dad that is still making me laugh), and sure enough, Eric said the vet was dissing the breed hard, but then was all, my sister has three! So what's up with that, vets? Can we agree that all the earth's creatures are worth looking after and let go of the negative feelings already?
I probably just changed the world right there with that one sentence. You're welcome, world.
Lucy had a hard day yesterday and was not the happiest camper after the vet trip, but she's a trooper. This morning she was in our room as soon as she heard the alarm go off, and she's been outside and had her breakfast and is working on her first nap of the day underneath the living room ceiling fan. I'll make sure the AC is cranked today, I tell you what. Even though we have meds now, I'd just as soon not have her be in such pain to begin with.
So that was exciting. Um, the end, I hope.