Poor Little Boo

In case you haven’t met her yet, this is Amy:

Poor, sick Amy

More to the point, that is one sick little Amy at the vet at 8:30 Tuesday morning. We — she and I — had been up for 5 hours being sicker than we’ve ever been.

It started on Saturday morning, a little minor stomach upset. No big deal, it happens, so we switched to a bland diet of boiled chicken & white rice. Sunday was okay. Monday, though, things went down hill fast. The appetite and the spunky attitude remained, but The Other Corgi was sick. Very sick. Every two hours racing to the backyard, from noon on. I made her a vet’s appointment for 1:30 the next afternoon. We thought maybe things were winding down around bedtime, which was 11:30, but then she woke us up at 1 AM. And again at 3. I took a blanket to sleep on the couch to be closer to her crate, but at 3:30 she started barking again. She wanted comfort. At that point, I decided to just stay up with her. At 4 AM she took herself upstairs and took my spot on the bed to be closer to Daddy. He chased her back downstairs. At 4:30 she started vomiting. I don’t know how we got through the next few hours after that, but by 8 AM we were in the car and headed to the vet for walk-in hours, no matter that the vet didn’t open til 9. We were going to sit in that parking lot until a nurse showed up, and then we were going to rush the doors. I noticed at 8:20, shortly after we arrived, that a gentleman just strolled in through the front door. It was unlocked! I bundled Amy up in an old towel and trundled her in to the office.

You could tell she was sick because she consented to just being carried around. I had carried her from the house to the car, allowed her to ride in the backseat without her seat belt on (she just laid there), and carried her from the car to the vet’s office. No leash, and definitely not under her own power. When we were packing up to leave the house, it was like she hit a wall, a downward slope, like she knew I was going to take her to the doctor and she could just zone out and let it go.

Even though the vets hadn’t arrived yet, the nurses didn’t want us to leave. I said I’d rather be sitting in the waiting room ready to go, than go back out to the car. They asked plenty of questions, questions I knew they would ask, about what she might have gotten in to, what her symptoms were, when they started, et cetera. Was she usually this chilled out? Nope, she was spunky until about 7:30, she seems to have hit a wall about the time I started packing to bring her in. It’s like she knows.

It just so happens that my best friend and her dog had a 10 AM appointment for puppy boosters, so we were still there when they arrived. Even though Jim had to go to work, it felt good to not be totally alone at the vet’s, and to have someone else confirm that when Amy came out of the treatment room, she looked a little bit more like her old self.

A lymph node biopsy, a bag of subcutaneous fluids, an anti-emetic, some take-home anti-biotics and anti-parasitics, a SNAP test, a full blood panel, and two hours later, I headed back home with a slightly perkier puppy in the back seat. She got from the vet’s office to the car under her own power. She even tried to stand up and “woo” at me at one of the stop lights.

She slept most of the rest of the day. She drank a LOT of water. She was zoned out on the anti-emetic and looked like a little hunchback of Notre Dame where the sub q fluids were massed under her skin. She turned her nose up at cottage cheese, chicken, rice, and a little bit of crunchy dog cookie. She stayed this way until about 4 PM, when I hung up her leash & collar from the morning and the tags jingled, which woke her up and got her interested in doings again. She went outside to pee and horked down the small stub of pb cookie I offered when she came back in. By 5 she had a full appetite, and she’s been able to keep food and water down since Tuesday evening.

The SNAP test was negative, and the blood panel was entirely normal. The lymph node biopsy had to be sent to an outside lab, so it will take a few days for those results to come back. The theory — the hope, at least — is that her lymph node was inflamed because she was sick, not that she was sick because the lymph node was inflamed. We may never be sure what got her so sick, if the biopsy comes back unremarkable.

I’ve been hiding her anti-biotic in a bit of mashed string cheese or cold chicken, since she was able to separate the pill from the peanut butter I tried to hide it in at first. The anti-parasitic went down easily, since it’s a dissolvable powder that mixed in with her chicken and rice. Although she has been peeing normally, if not a bit more frequently, The Other Corgi has not started up, erm, production again yet. Until it does, I won’t be able to fully rest because I’ll be worried she has a solid blockage in her stomach. (May I remind you — this is the little angel who devoured not one but two toy squeakers under the watchful eyes of a dozen breeders at a show, once. She’ll eat anything that looks or smells even remotely edible.)

Amy has reaped some serious Corgi Love from the fans of The Daily Corgi‘s Facebook page — founder Laurie posted her picture and story on the wall and asked for good wishes to be sent our way. She’s trying to think of something she can do to say “Thank you!” once she’s feeling 100% again. Just knowing that there were fellow corgi lovers and corgi owners cheering for her recovery made it a bit easier to get through the day on sheer adrenaline.

Slow & steady wins the recovery race. We get through it one day at a time, hoping to feel a little bit better every day.

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