And this dog really needs to eat. She's on thyroid pills, which luckily I don't have to jam down her throat. They're incredibly tiny and when one is just thrown in with her food, she swallows it. The hair loss is very sad. Reading online, I think it may be lack of estrogen. It causes an enlarged vulva, weight loss, and hair loss--all of which she has. Perhaps the thyroid meds will also help with her hair. The good news though, is that I know a lot more about how to gain weight than I do about losing weight, so that part of Stella's recovery should be easy for me.
However, I'm a wee bit tired today. I didn’t sleep much, and I don't think Stella slept at all. Her favorite spot in the apartment is of course on the couch, but she enjoyed the bed as well. She wasn't the cuddler Katya had made her out to be, but Stella didn't seem to be too well last night. Perhaps she just wanted to be alone.
Stella coughs, but not the harsh hacking that ends in a wretch which is what Harry got me used to hearing. Instead she coughs ever so gently, repeatedly, for many minutes, rattling her entire skeleton (and the bed). If she isn't coughing, she's breathing loudly because her nose is so stuffed she can only attempt to breathe through her mouth, something dogs generally only do when they're panting.
I spent the entire night listening to her breathing, feeling the bed shake under her coughing body, and then when she finally found a clear nostril from which to breathe, my heart would skip a beat thinking she stopped breathing completely.
Harry had one day of nose gook. I was very lucky. Stella has the issues that I could not deal with in a child, which is precisely why I do not want children. I was visiting a friend of mine back east with her two year old child when I witnessed her say to her daughter, "Come here, you have a boogie in your nose," and then reach over, stick her thumbnail in her daughter's nose, and extract a flaky booger. How do parents do that? I'm having a hard time wiping long green snot from Stella's nose and she's not human. Although, at times, I wish she was so I could just hold a tissue under her nose and say, "Blow." She doesn't even sneeze. The mucus just pokes out of her nostrils with each exhale and gets sucked back in on each inhale. If she hangs her head over the couch and I walk away, five minutes later I return to see a long trail of yellow snot many inches long dangling out of her nose as if a tiny Rumpzel has let down her hair and is trying to escape a dog's face.
She went on one car ride with me, as I needed to meet my boss in the LA basin. I wanted to leave Stella alone, but going over the hill and back could take many hours depending on the traffic, so she came along. I realized during our ride, every now and again wiping the dangling snot from her nose, that she is definitely not going to be able to accompany me anywhere during her stay with me. Harry was sick, but not like this. Not only for the sake of other dogs, but for Stella's, she needs to stay home, in bed, and get some rest.
So after returning from our trip across town, I left Stella on the couch and walked out the door. She didn't even move. I did some quick work business then went to the pet store to get more of the canned food from the vet (I don't have high expectations for my cooking, and the kid needs as much food as her stomach will hold anyway), and a collar. I only own one big collar, since most of the dogs just get the harness on for trips and walks. But since Stella is not going to be in the car, and our walks only consist of going to the end of the driveway and back, I thought it easier to just get a collar she could keep on rather than take on and off a harness every few hours.
When I returned almost an hour later, Stella was in the same exact position, and didn't even acknowledge my existence. I think she can handle it if I leave for the evening if need be.
My allergies were kicking up something fierce. Stella is old, sick, and had been at the vet's office for two weeks. She was a tad stinky. I realize now that I'm less allergic dogs and more allergic to wherever they've been and whatever they've been rolling in. I'm sure she also had dried-up snot and mucous on her coat from just letting it hang. The vet said no to any decongestants, that I just had to keep wiping her nose, but I imagine they didn't have much time to that at the vet's 24 hours a day.
Like most dogs, Stella wanted nothing to do with the water portion of the bath, but she couldn't get enough of the toweling off. Her neck fur is very thick--almost like a scarf, and difficult to dry. The bath at least cleaned off the rest of her coat and what fur did remain on her back was silky soft when I finished. She had come with a sweater to keep her warm, but the vet said she always tried to take it off. (And the vet tech had washed it with the towels so the nice black sweater had pink lint all over it). Really, though, she doesn't need a sweater; she needs pants. Her front half has all the fur she needs. Her neck could keep her warm. It is from just above her hips down to her tail that needs the covering.
I wish I could have gotten a non-blurry picture of Stella when she came out of the bath. She really has a beautiful coat (what's left of it). The bath made her white fur whiter, and it brought out the brown highlights in her black fur. I keep imagining how gorgeous she must have been five years ago.
Stella is the oldest charge I've had. In fact, she's older than either of my dogs ever lived to be. She's been on this planet for over one third of my entire life. When Stephanie asks how she's doing, I really don't know how old dogs are to know what the standard is for Stella to be when she is well. She had a few moments of bright-eyedness, but that's about it. And when she needs to go out, she speedily walks to the end of the parking lot to go. But otherwise, she sleeps and snots, eats and poops.
Katya asked what I thought of her, but honestly, I haven't gotten a chance to get to know her. I hope I do soon. I want to know this sweet and loving spirit not hindered by bacterial infections and physical maladies.
And I'd really like to be able to help her get better. I wish I just had to jam pills down a dog's throat; it's far easier. This morning, I did the injection well, but tonight, it was horrible. Confidence is key, and I don't have it. I contemplated too much. Every time I took a bit of scruff on her neck, she turned to me and tried to inch away. She knows I have no idea what I'm doing. A dog will always love you, but they won't always have the utmost confidence in you.
I'm hoping tonight is better than last night. Stella smells better at least. I'd like to hope she feels a little better too by not having sticky, oily fur. Her nose is clogged so she can't smell herself, but maybe the bath will help her spirits. It's kept her nostrils clear for a couple of hours now.
Being a nurse is not my strong suit. It's probably best I don't have my own dog. If I can't handle giving injections, what would happen if my own dog needed it? A friend of mine has to give his cat insulin everyday. I repeat: he gives a cat injections. I should have no trouble giving a kind senior dog a injection. I just wish I could practice. It's the most important part of getting her better: giving her medicine. But I guess like most important things in life, you don't get to practice; you're just dealt what you're dealt. You get thrown in the water, you learn how to swim. I just wish it wasn't someone else that drowns if I fail.
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