another sick puppy

Willym's sweet puppy Reesie on the way to the vet and Willym's alone with it because Laurent's out of the country. My Billy is well, so thoughts and prayers for Reesie, please?

better not to know

I'm all about being informed, but some things may be better unknown while my puppy love is confined to hospital and I'm fretting about him. Had I read the description of small Bill's affliction ~ hemorrhagic gastroenteritis ~ while he was hospitalized, I wouldn't have slept a wink.

Billy is home and looking lively. Is there anything as sweet as a puppy practically turning himself inside out with joy? I. Love. Dogs.

Hemorrhagic Gastroenteritis (HGE) starts as sudden onset vomiting and diarrhoea with blood in both the vomit (called haematemesis and in the diarrhoea (see dysentery) described as looking like raspberry jam. Some dogs are already in shock because of blood loss into the lumen of the bowel when they are presented to a veterinary practice. Swollen fluid-filled intestines can sometimes be palpated in the abdomen. This disease can result in rapid death due to shock even if treatment is commenced immediately signs are noticed.

Disseminated intravascular coagulopathy can develop in advanced cases, also leading to death.

sigh

Daddy is communicating by spelling words, as in "May I have some o-a-t-m-e-a-l p-l-e-a-s-e?" or "Shall we go o-u-t for p-a-n-c-a-k-e-s?" He's also making vigorous sign, though he's no ALS wizard and frequently becomes frustrated when his longsuffering wife does not understand.

Little Billy is all alone at the vet's office, still attached to fluids. He has not thrown up or pooped anything painful and horrid all day. Vet told me he "is not going to die, I'm actually feeling good about his progress." Then he gave me a weird look and said "think positive," but when it's raining fucking toads, who knows what's next? He probably didn't have a grandmother who would shriek "quit laughing, something bad will happen!" Easy for him to think positive.

I am so tired I think I may implode, having had six hours of sleep in the last 72 hours. Regardless, I am going out to my favorite chair and I am going to watch one of the loves of my life, Jon Stewart, even if I have to prop the eyelids up with toothpicks.

I am so grateful for your kindness expressed here in thoughts and prayers and commiseration. Amazing to get that from this flat glass and metal thing that sits on my desk. Hugs and nighty night to all of you.

thank you . . . and

Now it's the dog. Daddy's okay. Heart rate dropped to 24 before surgery. Seems to have had a little bit of a setback with the dementia, but hoping, hoping it's just the stress and being away from home. Sleeping in a chair sucks. My papa is a trickster, having sent me away at 3 a.m. to get a blanket "because my arms are cold." After I covered him up, I managed to briefly close my eyes before startling awake to the scriiiiiiiiiitch of velcro fasteners being undone. He only wanted a blanket to cover his efforts to undo the brace holding his arm down. An 89 year old bad boy, my sweet daddy.

But the dog? Does it ever end? I get back to find the dog ~ little Bill ~ scrawny and vomiting everywhere, bloody poop. We're at the doggy ER most of the night, now back to the regular vet at 8:00 a.m.

But I meant to say thank you for your kindness and your prayers, so much appreciated. Now . . . well, the little dog is right up there among the top loves of my life. Here we go to the vet.