I thought I had earned Samone's trust. She was accepting the harness again, and there didn't seem to be an issue. I even cut out a few of those nasty matted hairballs on her haunches. But then out of nowhere, when we returned from our walk Friday night, she refused to let me unclip the harness, screeching, lunging, and cowering in fear as if I was stabbing her repeatedly.
I called Bullshit again on her, and she just lay there. She was reacting to anticipated pain, not actual pain. And it was annoying me. Because I do exactly the same thing.
When you have your own dog, you sign up for a lifetime commitment--yours or hers/his. Most likely you will outlive your pet, and therefore, there's a certainty that you will experience the loss of that pet by he or she dying. Fostering means never having to deal with that. You are their transitional person. You carry them along from the ending of their old life and into their new life. There's no sadness. There's no loss. Seeing that animal in their new home, knowing you contributed to their lives, and believing they will live out their days with their new family, take away any loss of not waking up and seeing them every day.
But Stella showed me fostering isn't a sure-fire way to avoid pain. Granted I didn’t suffer the loss of a lifelong companion as I had with my own dogs; but I did suffer the trauma of being her advocate and never knowing if I did indeed do what was best for her when it was best for her.
So when Samone started coughing every time she took a drink, my own hackles raised in fear. Stella couldn't drink without coughing it all up. It looked like Samone was keeping it down, but every cough made me cringe.
It turns out that Samone wasn't denying my meals due to my lack of domestic skills; she was denying the meals because her tooth infection was so bad, it hurt like hell to eat. Every time I was preparing her meal she waited expectantly at the entrance of the kitchen, occasionally grumbling in her inability to keep her opinions to herself, but the moment I set down the food she walked over, sniffed, and then walked away, jumping back up on the couch collapsing on the blanket.
She had been eating for a few days. At the end of her meal she would dive face-first into the carpet, rubbing her muzzle all over, grabbing her mouth with her front paws, as if trying to get some foodstuff dislodged from a back molar. It didn't look comfortable. The uncomfortability had finally reached a point where she just wouldn't eat.
I trembled in fear of history repeating itself. She was scheduled to be on a flight Saturday morning, but I sent up the alarm Friday morning in case someone had any suggestions on how to get her to eat. She had stopped eating much, and on Thursday, I only got her to eat any food by cooking up a hamburger and letting the juices dribble all over the kibble. If she didn't eat on Friday, Alexis couldn't let her get on the plane. The stress would be too much. So if she didn't get on the plane, that would mean she would stay with me...
Alexis recommended Baby Orajel. She had already set up an appointment at the vet's for Samone on Monday and Tuesday to get the infected tooth pulled, and give her a full check-up. Alexis said small quantities of Baby Orajel were fine for dogs, and maybe that would numb it enough for her to eat. However, I didn't know which tooth was the culprit. In comparison to Stella's rotting mouth, Samone's looked spectacular. Alexis said to just get it on the side where her eye had the issue, and that should be enough. However, I've never used Orajel before, so I wasn't confident I'd administer it correctly.
Christy offered to pick up some baby food (she said sick animals eat this when they eat nothing else) as well as the Orajel. I said I'd get the Orajel, and give it a try first. No need to spend money on other food, if the Orajel is enough to make her eat dog food.
After many minutes of struggling with Samone, trying to get it into her mouth without getting it on the floor, her paw, or me, I gave up. I thought I got it where it needed to be, but I couldn't be sure. My anxiety and fear bubbled to the surface and I called Christy in a panic.
"Why are you freaking out?" she asked.
I tried to explain while on the verge of tears, but like anyone with post traumatic stress syndrome and a conscience that hasn't gotten rid of all the guilt yet, I simply said, "I can't take care of sick animals. Can you please come over tonight and try to give the Orajel. I don't know if I got it in the right place."
The fact is, I will never know if part of the reason Stella didn't get better is because I failed as a caregiver. I didn't always get the injection in properly, or even at all sometimes. If I didn't give Samone the Orajel properly, and she didn't eat, she wouldn't be on that flight to safety the next day.
I don't know if the Orajel worked, or if Samone just saw how upset I was, or if the Cesar cuisine was simply good enough to overcome her own fear of pain, but shortly after getting off the phone with Christy, Samone walked over to the dog dish and gave it a try.
She ate some, but just like Stella, when it got congealed into the corners, she couldn't pick it up with her mouth. As much as it was a little too close to the past for me, I reached down, mushed up the food into a tiny pyramid in the center the bowl, and she ate some more. It took a few of these procedures for her to finish the entire bowl.
Christy and Craig came over as promised around 6:00, with baby food, cottage cheese, and hotdogs. Samone's previous foster said Samone loved hotdogs, so we were hoping she would eat this if nothing else.
When Christy walked in, Samone lifted her head from the couch and wagged her tail.
"Stephanie, she's fine! What's wrong?" Christy asked again.
I really don't like feeling helpless. Not being able to help a dog who needs help is devastating to me. And when it comes to medical conditions, I have a hard time dealing with my own, let alone another creature's.
"If she ate something today, that's good. It's not like she hasn't eaten in four days," Christy said, petting Samone.
"Well I certainly wouldn't wait four days before telling you she's not eating. I'd like to solve it before it gets to that point," I explained.
Craig and Christy then tag-teamed, each believing they could get Samone to eat. Each time, Samone backed away, turned her head, jumped off the couch, and at one point even walked over to the hallway, sat down, and peeked around the corner at the crazy humans who were trying to force feed her.
Finally, after accepting that indeed, she needed the Orajel, Christy held Samone while Craig got some in her mouth. She obviously didn't like the taste, but it seemed to take effect within only a few minutes.
Christy put down a bowl containing three piles of choice meals: chopped up hotdog, baby food, and cottage cheese. Samone initially shunned this was well, but after a few minutes of the Orajel in her mouth, she walked over to the dish and in less than a minute, the entire hotdog was gone. She wasn't a fan of the cottage cheese and liked the baby food least of all, but she ate everything off her plate anyway.
Craig suggested I give her another hotdog.
"Are you crazy? She just had cottage cheese, baby food, and a hotdog. She's going to vomit all over the place tonight," Christy warned.
She had sucked down the food though; perhaps she was really hungry. I said throwing up was fine with me; I just needed her to eat.
So after Craig and Christy left, I gave her yet another hotdog, which she chowed down happily, and then spent the rest of the evening snoozing next to me on the couch while her stomach let loose a chorus of creaks and groans, as its machinery started processing all this foodstuff.
Christy offered for me to come over early Saturday and she'd give more Orajel to Samone so she could eat once more before her long travel day. The dogs have to arrive three hours before take-off, and then the flight itself is three hours. So, essentially, they're not getting food, water, or the chance to go to the bathroom for around seven hours by the time they get out of customs. I wanted Samone to eat and then have time to digest before getting put in the crate in Christy's car. She was the first pick-up on this airport shuttle run Christy and Katya were doing, so she'd be stressed out the longest.
I didn’t bother with dog food Saturday morning. It was her last remaining hours as an American citizen, and I wanted to give her some treats before shipping her out. So I heated up two hotdogs, added a little baby food and cheese for nutritional value, and set it down for her. I figured I'd try without the Orajel, and this time hotdog was good enough for her to eat without complaint.
I felt it was still too rushed when we left, and I arrived at Christy's five minutes late. As I took Samone out of the car, I felt her trembling. She hadn't seen this coming. Even though I had told her what was going to happen today, it was probably beyond her understanding, since my main focus wasn't on her leaving, but on her eating.
I had a hard time saying good-bye to her as she shivered in my arms. She wasn't confident and secure. She was terrified at what lay ahead and anticipated nothing but bad things. I gave her a hug and told her all would well, and promised her that there were hotdogs in Canada too.
As Christy drove away to pick up the second of seven dogs that were on their way to our neighbor to the north that day, I drove home, hoping that Samone would stop anticipating pain and bad things to come. But we are a product of our past. Samone's past must have been riddled with pain, fear, helplessness. Getting over that will take some time. She's got to feel secure first, trust the person she's with, trust her surroundings. I know there's a feisty, confident chick in there somewhere, but she doesn't show it to everyone right away.
It might seem like I do this fostering thing because the dogs need me. Truth is, I need them just as much, if not more. One day I might be able to take care of a sick dog again. But not now. I'm still anticipating pain, helplessness, the inability to do what needs to be done. I need to feel secure, and trust myself again. And eventually that feisty, get-it-done, confident chick will come out again. Until then, though, I need some easy, possibly emotionally damaged dogs to build my confidence, or ones that just need a couch and some peace and quiet.
Good luck, Samone. Canada, welcome this little pup. She'll need a little while to get herself settled and feel secure enough to just be herself. But she'll get there. And what you'll find is that Samone is one confident, opinionated, hotdog-loving, hamburger-eating, everyday American girl. And that's the past she can be proud of.
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