...I know I don't have a dog for a reason: so I can take in dogs like Harry--ones that can't be with other dogs because of illness. I can take in the ones who don't get along with other pets; ones who need quarantine. I help the tough cases, the ones other people may not be able to assist due to their situation...
It wasn't long after I wrote these words that I received an email from Katya (Queen of Nomenclature) requesting my assistance for a tough case. From what she wrote, I knew this little girl named Stella was to her what Harry was to me: a special favorite. And since Katya could not help Stella, she asked if I could.
Stella is a 12-14 year old cattle dog/possible Dobie mix that was found tied up in a Baldwin Park schoolyard, taken to the Baldwin Park Shelter (extremely high kill rate), and then rescued by Animal Advocates Alliance. Katya had fostered her briefly before she found her forever home. However, much like Harry's kennelmate, within just a short time of Stella being in her new home she fell deathly ill. Because she was with two other senior dogs, not only did she need to get to a vet's, but she couldn't recover at home for fear of infecting the other dogs.
So....Katya and Stephanie (the rescuer) had gone to visit Stella a few times at the vet's, and although she was being treated for illness, they knew that home care was really the fastest way for her to get better. Veterinarian hospitals are necessary and good places, but stressful places for long-term stays. Katya asked if I could keep Stella for 7-10 days while she finished her antibiotics and then hopefully she could go home again.
Due to that annoying thing called "a job," I couldn't take her right away. I was scheduled to be out of my office on Wednesday (yesterday) and move whatever remaining work I had back home to finish out the week and work next week. So I said I would pick up Stella on Thursday (today) and keep her until at least Wednesday next week. I'm half-planning on a little birthday trip next week in the hopes of getting my fall foliage fix about a hundred a fifty miles away. I said I could always take Stella with me, but Katya said it best she stay and if indeed she was still sick and suffering by then, "other options" might need to be considered.
Harry had kennel cough. Most of the dogs that have been in my apartment have been diagnosed with kennel cough. A cold is a cold. But a cold in an old senior dog who has either been neglected or been a stray for a number of years, is a very very bad thing. Katya had sent me pictures of a cheery, smiling tri-colored dog, and everyone, including the entire vet's office, sang her praises about what a special wonderful girl she was. So despite my fourteen-hour work days, I made time to look forward to a little R & R with this girl.
I spent today running all my errands, not knowing if this is a dog I could leave alone, since none so far have been able to be left without crying or barking. Katya believed she would be fine, stating that as an old dog, and a sick old dog at that, Stella would probably sleep and not even notice I was gone.
I had asked about what she ate, and Stephanie replied wet food and the vet had been feeding her a chicken a day. Katya said I could make her some chicken, brown rice, peas, and carrots. This dog eats better than I do, and these two women have far more confidence in my culinary skills than they should. As I was in the store staring blankly at the fifty different kinds of rice that exist and wondering which I should get, a helpful stranger saw my expression and unloaded his brain of rice knowledge, explaining which makes for good risotto, which is fluffy, which has a nutty taste, and on and on. When he paused, I said, "Thank you. I'm actually just trying to figure out what to get for a dog."
"Oh, well, I don't know. Is it a fussy dog?" he asked.
Wet food was even more of a challenge. I grabbed a new PetFresh Bites refrigerated dinner in case I failed at the rice, then bought some food for myself for the week.
At the vet's office, the receptionist was very nice and told me that I would be so happy to take Stella home. And then she kindly warned me (thank goodness), "She looks a lot worse than she is."
I have to admit that I was more than taken aback when she was brought into the examining room. I wasn't expecting the same smiling dog from Katya's photo, but Stella was a lot worse than I imagined. She is on medicine that needs to be injected twice daily, so the vet was nice enough to give me a lesson, which is why I wasn't just handed her leash and sent on my way. Stella didn't have kennel cough; she had pneumonia. And some hair loss that they're not sure if it's due to hormones, malnutrition, or old age. It's definitely not mange, but she's missing fur all around her back end and creeping its way up her spine. Any dog with fur loss doesn't look good, but it looks even worse when you can see every vertebrae in her back and her hip bones stick up an inch over her tail bone.
Despite her appearance, she was in good spirits. She said hello to me, and it was obvious that she really liked the doctors and the vet techs. The receptionist gave Stella a toy as a parting gift. As for my lesson in how to administer a needle, I know for certain now that abandoning my career as a veterinarian at a young age was a very good idea.
I told the doctor I learn by doing, so I'd like to actually do it in front of him so he could tell me what I've done wrong. He did one injection of just fluid to show me how to tent the back of the neck, stick the needle in, pull out, then you're done. I don't think it took more than three seconds. I had the needle with the medicine in it. I stuck it in, and then Stella yelped, collapsed on her side, and I had to rush in a panic to get the medicine in and then get it out.
"Just do it faster," was the only thing the doctor could tell me. He was very patient and very nice about it all.
I hoped I could do it better next time. But I doubt it made Stella like me very much. She hadn't even yelped when he administered the needle. I just don't know how much pressure is needed it to pierce the skin, get it in, and push the fluid in.
In the end, the vet said if I really didn't feel comfortable, that I could come by every day and he'd do it for me. I said I'd try the next morning, and see if I could do it. I have a feeling it'll take practice, but I don't want to hurt her every time.
Stella didn't seem to want to leave (would you want to leave with some stranger who just stabbed you?). She made her rounds of saying good-bye to the doctor and the receptionist and then we headed outside to the car. She was so weak. She made it up to the first landing of the stairs to the parking garage and then stopped. She didn't want to go any further. Her nose was running, and her hind legs didn't seem to have enough muscle to keep moving.
She seemed to know what car rides were and was happy to be up in the seat, but preferred mine. She was taller than I expected, so she couldn't ride on my lap on the way home. Katya had said Stella was about 35 pounds, but needed to be twice that. Indeed she does. Every rib shows, even the ones covered with her black coat.
Every new dog is not only a chance for me to help another creature on this planet and enjoy doing so, but it also provides me a chance to learn something. I have a feeling I'm going to a learn on this one. At the very least, I hope I'll be able to add a few more non-pasta related food items to my "I Can Make That!" list. But I'll try not to raise my expectations too much.
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