It’s Raining Dogs

We arrived to an empty house, and no trip to the puppy hotel would fill it. It felt like there was a huge hole in our routine again.

I took my time unpacking. Before, I would unpack as quickly as possible, hiding the suitcases away so they wouldn’t upset her, lest she think we were abandoning her again. My suitcase is still lying in the middle of the floor of the spare room. I thought that maybe if I didn’t unpack, my vacation wouldn’t have to end. We failed to hit a life-changing jackpot in Vegas, so it’s back to work we go.

At first I was crabby, then apathetic. But now hopeful.

We’ve applied to three rescue organizations. We have a home visit scheduled with one this weekend. A few hours later, someone from another organization is bringing a dog over for us to meet and potentially adopt. I’m not sure if that counts as the home visit, or if the two organizations work together, or if we’ll need a separate visit later.

I’m cautiously optimistic. Other families are interested. She might reject us. As eager as we are to have a dog in the house again, she might not be the right one. But I’m excited to meet her. Just in case.

Either way, it will be fun to be around dogs and hear familiar sounds– claws on the wooden floors, drinking water, panting, sniffing, whimpering, barking. I watched a video on YouTube several times just to hear a dog drink water (although the puppies are adorable too).

I keep telling myself it will all work out, and I have to be patient (again, not my strong suit). Every step we take is leading us to New Dog, somehow.

New Dog won’t fill the void completely. It’s unfair to expect that. It will be different, but it will be good.

Yet I still miss things that are unique to Abby. I feel a need to capture as much as I can, before the memories fade away or they get blurred with other ones. A few highlights:

• The way she would give my husband’s feet a thorough tongue bath every night.

• The way she would peek around the corner of the kitchen at the treat counter, even if we were making toast. We were within five feet of tasty morsels that might make their way into her mouth. (This probably isn’t unique to Abby, but the position in our house is.)

• The way she would drop her red saucer on the floor and look up at us, asking us to remove the chicken treats inside.

• The way her tail would wag when we walked in the door, even if we were just coming in from the garage. Or the way she would sit in the living room window, poking her head through the gap in the curtains. When we pulled into the driveway, she would stand up, her tail would thump against the curtains and the couch, and her entire rear end would shake. She would toss her head and disappear into the living room to greet us.

• The way she would run to the living room window when we said certain words (“Puppies,” “The Boy’s home,” “The Girl’s home,” or my favorite, “Where’s Schmoopie?”). Like several million other couples in the late ’90s, we adopted “schmoopie” as a term of endearment from the Seinfeld episode. Somehow “Where’s Schmoopie” became a cue for Abby to dash to the window to see if one of her people was arriving home.

• The way she would tilt her head whenever one of us would say “chalupa” or “Taco Bell,” even when we went on diets and didn’t visit the establishment for months. “Chalupa” meant “car ride” in dog language.

An Interlude

Posts will be even more sporadic than usual, as I’m out of town for a few days.

I managed to hit myself in the face as I was getting dressed this morning, and now I have a big red bump on my cheek because I’m smooth like that. Perhaps it’s a sign that I need less spandex in my wardrobe.

I had a slight meltdown last night, but packing always stresses me out, and it hasn’t been the most relaxing week. It was weird putting my stuff into a suitcase without an inquisitive Abby wandering in and out of the room to sniff things and hearing her claws on the hardwood floor. And it’s odd not taking her to the puppy hotel today.

We always prepared her a few days ahead, inserting the words “puppy hotel” into conversations. Her eyes would widen and she would tilt her head to the side, and we reassured her that we weren’t going yet, but soon. We had to wait to bring the suitcases out at the last minute because she’d get so worked up. She knew that the big red boxes meant a big change in her routine for the next few days.

On the day we brought her to the vet for boarding, she would pace the floor as we packed up her food, toys, blankets, and medications. She got more excited as the hour approached, and we usually ended up taking her in earlier than we had planned. We would finally ask her “would you like to go to the puppy hotel?” and she would spin around the living room wildly, then abruptly stopping to do a modified downward dog pose, her front legs stretched out, her back arched, her butt pointing to the sky, with her head looking up, her eyes fixated on our every move. (We called this the “I want to play” stretch, although she did it whenever there was play, walks, rides, or any sort of potential excitement involved.)

Her entire back end would shake with anticipation as we turned the corner to the vet’s office, and she would pant loudly. Most times she was so happy to be there that she eagerly followed them into the back room, but there were a few times when she turned around specifically to give us a look to make us feel guilty. She had glowing reviews from the staff when we came to pick her up, though. And she always managed to spill water on her blanket the last day she was there, so we would have to wait a few extra minutes for it to come out of the dryer.

Typing this makes me miss her, but fondly.

This will probably be our last vacation in a while due to the furnace debacle, so I’m going to try to milk all the happiness I can out of it.  No thinking about work, no stressing about bills, and no crying over the dog. I’m going to tell myself that I can cry later, and I’ve been crying for the last month. She won’t mind.

When we get back, we can start our search for a new four-legged friend. New Dog, I’m looking forward to meeting you soon.

Vacation, All I’ve Ever Wanted

I don’t think I’ve needed a vacation more in my life.  Today, our furnace decided to give us a going-away present by going on strike. Luckily, we were able to get an appointment to replace it before we leave. Unluckily, it will cost us a four-figure sum. The cost of being a homeowner in a state that requires heat, I suppose.

One thing that made me laugh really hard today: someone found this blog by searching for “different names for butt”.

Things Can Only Get Better

Good news– Abby went all night without going outside despite pooping like a goose yesterday. Maybe she got everything out of her system by 7 p.m. She whimpered a little, but otherwise all of us slept pretty soundly.Tim also discovered that she’s whimpering because she’s hungry, not because her butt is bothering her or because she’s in any other sort of pain. When she would moan, Tim offered her a little food and she scarfed it down. So she’s probably trying to make up for the fact that she hasn’t eaten a lot for a week, and her stomach is empty.

We dropped her off at the vet this morning, and she’s been pretty alert all day with a waggy tail.

So that’s a relief to know she’s feeling better, and now we can focus on having a good time in Vegas. Or at least we can try.

All That You Can’t Leave Behind

I was packed at 9:45. Our flight is sometime around 3 tomorrow (I should really know the exact time). We’re going to drop Abby off at the vet in the morning, then try to check in early to increase our chances of a first class upgrade.Today felt like a week. Abby got us up every 2 hours to go outside last night. Knowing that was her schedule, there was no way she was going to make it from the time I left for work to the time I got home for lunch (about 4 hours). So I went into work, stayed for about 45 minutes until traffic into St. Paul eased up, brought the laptop home, and let the dog out just in time to meet her 2-hour schedule.

I hope I don’t sound like I’m complaining. It’s just been exhausting physically and emotionally.

She went out a lot today. I’m not sure if it was because she had the luxury of me being home, or if she had to go more often. She hasn’t been going out too much this evening, so I’m hoping her system has settled a bit.

It’s pretty gross when she is outside– they don’t call it explosive diarrhea for nothing. A lot of the time she’s just straining, though. I worry about her back legs, especially considering that she’s not on Rimadyl due to the possibility of ulcers.

Then again, I worry about a lot of things. Abby’s been making these weird noises in her sleep, a cross between a howl and a long whimper. Although I’m not sure if she realizes she’s doing it– Tim said she woke herself up in the basement earlier. It sounds pitiful and sad, and I wonder how much pain she’s in. She’s been pretty comfortable sleeping, though– she sticks to one spot instead of moving around.

She didn’t want to eat much today. She perks up when we offer her lunch meat, so we’ve been hiding some of her pills in it. After she finally had dinner, she seems to be more of her usual self. She came in to inspect my suitcase and sniff the new lip gloss I had on. She was actively seeking attention. Now she’s sitting on the couch on the porch, looking around and smacking. I just want my dog back. The past week has been rough on all of us.

I haven’t been focusing on Vegas at all because of the drama. In a way, it was nice to have a somewhat busy day at work to take my mind off things. I still feel like I’m working. I’m on typing autopilot right now– getting as much information out as possible.

Time to stop multitasking and focus on getting a decent night’s sleep.

I still feel guilty for going on vacation, but she’ll be in the best possible place while we’re gone. I keep rationalizing that it might even be better for her to be at the vet’s all day in case they spot anything unusual. I’m going to try to focus on having a good time and relaxing. It will help once we’re on the plane, having adult beverages. It will help even more when we’ve landed, checked in, and begun our carousing for the evening.

I’m strongly considering a massage. It’s expensive, but my shoulders have been around my ears for the last several days. We shall see.

It Only Hurts When I Breathe

The dog is doing OK. Me? Not so much.I’m not a good pre-trip planner. Even though I’ve had a packing list made for about a month, I’m still not packed. I always save it for the night before anyway, because I don’t want my clothes to be completely wrinkled, and there’s some stuff I need to use the night before (toothbrush, eye makeup remover, etc.). I know, these are only excuses.

Abby’s home from the vet. We picked her up after work today. She’s been sleeping most of the time, and she hasn’t been moving around in her sleep trying to get comfortable, which is good. At the vet, she was eating about 1/4 cup of wet food (canned ID) every hour, so we gave her a little bit when we got home. Ever the rebel, she wasn’t interested. We coaxed her with some lunch meat, which is also how I got her to take her Pepcid an hour after she ate. I found the half-digested square tablet in her water bowl a few minutes later, but I bribed her again. We’ve only given her small pieces of turkey; we don’t want to overload her system. She’s gone outside a couple times.

She’s skipping chemo this week (the vincristine IV part). They want to wait until her strength is back. She still has some diarrhea, but at least she’s keeping food down.

I made the mistake of trying to clean up the yard a little bit. Because it’s been rainy for the last five days, most of the poop (that hadn’t been liquid to begin with) was the consistency of peanut butter, which isn’t surprising considering how much of that she’s eaten over the last two weeks. I usually like to wait until the sun has had a chance to dry things up and make my job easier, but with garbage coming tomorrow and us leaving on vacation in a couple days, I didn’t have that luxury.

I should have just taken the cash I withdrew from the bank and handed it over to the vet. But she’s worth it. However, it sure would be nice if gambling treated us well. I’m not asking for much. Just a couple thousand dollars, really.

What a Day for a Night

We’ve been through quite a bit over the last 24 hours. Last night, Abby woke us up every 45 minutes to go outside (which was fine, considering the alternative). At first, I was getting impatient with her (especially after she wandered around in the back yard for 5 minutes, and then came inside to throw up). But at least I knew she was throwing up so I could let the vet know, and as far as picking her spots, she was kind enough to miss the blanket and to do it right in front of the night light, preventing me from turning on more lights and waking Tim.

The worst was when she jumped up on the love seat on the porch, tried to get comfortable, and started whimpering. I got up with her and petted her for a while, trying to console her. It’s a horrible feeling when you know your dog is hurting and there’s nothing you can do. I took the first shift, from 11:30 to about 2, then I let Tim take over.

I drove to work, got my laptop, and drove home. I rescheduled all my meetings for the day and called the vet at 8 a.m., and they told me to bring her in, which I was planning for. By the way, the radio commercial you do not want to hear on the way to the vet is Ron Schara advertising pet cremation services.

I managed to keep it together for about 5 minutes before breaking down in front of the vet tech Janet, whom we’ve known for several years. She was taking it pretty hard too. She told me she wasn’t able to administer any of Abby’s chemo because she’s expecting in January. I’m excited for her– she’ll be a great mom.

One of the other vets on staff came in to look at Abby, and surprisingly, she didn’t growl at him like she usually does (he’s taken her temperature one too many times, poor guy). He said he would run some tests and let us know how she was doing, and he mentioned that our regular vet would be in at noon. We found out that she had some elevated liver levels (typical for prednisone patients), but that her lymphocyte and white blood cell counts were OK. They were giving her some fluids, along with some things to coat her stomach.

We went to the vet’s office at 6:30 that evening. Because the chemo has been killing off growing cells, it targets things like hair, bone marrow, and the lining of her intestine. She had been having bloody explosive diarrhea all day because she was shedding the lining of her intestine. The vet tech said it sounded much worse than it was (besides the fact that it was gross and messy and smelly), and that she was feeling more shame than pain. They suggested that we keep her there for the night, being as they have industrial washers and lots of interchangeable bedding.

We went back to see her, and she was really groggy. She woke up a little more and took an interest in the golden retriever who was also in the area, so it was good to see her perk up. She’s pretty comfortable in the vet’s office, which helps a lot.

We asked the vet and the tech about our vacation, and they both encouraged us to still go. To be honest, with this latest setback, we were thinking about postponing our trip. Four days out, we’re normally all Vegas all the time, but we have a different perspective this time. And it’s hard to get excited when you don’t know if you’re going to go.

We know that’s Abby is comfortable when boarding, and we know she’s in good hands there. The vet and the tech both said that she wasn’t in a danger zone where she was close to fading away anytime during the next week, which was simultaneously frightening and relieving (frightening because it could happen sometime, but a relief because we’re not at that point). But she’s in better hands there than if we were staying home with her. They can monitor her all the time. I feel somewhat guilty for not realizing that she had diarrhea instead of constipation, because she was going outside in the dark and she left her deposits in the far corners of the yard. But I try to tell myself we did the right thing by taking her in, and even if we’d discovered it yesterday, it was better to wait and take her to the vet (where they knew her history and exactly what was going on) than to the emergency clinic, which completely stresses her out.

So on the way home, because we have a twisted sense of humor, we made up new lyrics to “Chocolate Rain.” A sample:

Chocolate rain
Explosive diarrhea leaves a stain
Chocolate rain
Walk around then it’s time to squat again

Hey, if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry, and I’ve done plenty of crying today.

Ever the comedian, our dog left a giant slime spot on Tim’s black t-shirt. He discovered it a couple hours after we left. That’s our dog.