What A Week: Rats, Dogs, Oh! And I Have A Blog!

Whoops! I have a blog! There’s been so much going on that not only have I not updated here in a week, but I don’t think I’ve read a single post on anyone else’s blog.

It wasn’t an intentional “vacation” from Snark, but the last week has been crazy. Here’s one of the highlights:

Remember the mouse that Gracie and Penny caught? A few days after that I woke up a little before 6:00 a.m. because I heard Penny violently throwing up. It sounded so painful. She threw up about six times, and when I though she was finally done, she started to scream in agony. SCREAM in AGONY. I’m pretty sure the neighbors thought I got tired of all of her barking and finally stabbed her with a butter knife. That’s how bad it was.

And that’s when I panicked.

I thought the mouse was making her sick. And worse? I thought she ate a mouse that had been poisoned. Which meant she was poisoned.

Thank god for my vet. He recently opened a second location—the only 24-hour, 7-day a week emergency vet center in the immediate area. I called to tell them I was coming in and I left Gracie in the house, bundled Penny up in a towel and tossed her in the front seat of my car. She screamed bloody murder the entire way. Every time I pulled up to a stop light people looked over to see what the hell kind of wild creature was making all that noise.

When we got there, I ran inside with her just in time to have her puke all over their floor. Three times. There was another emergency that came in right before me so we had to wait a few minutes to see the vet. While we waited, Penny was writhing on the floor, barking, screaming, yowling, but when I rubbed her belly it seemed to calm her down a little. That’s also when I noticed she went into heat that morning. *sigh* My little girl is a woman. Ehem.

So anyway…

Once I explained to the vet what I thought happened they decided to take her temperature. If anyone thought Penny was loud before, none of us expected the screeching sounds she emitted when they tried to stick the thermometer in her rear. I tried to hold her but I was no match for her. My entire right thigh is STILL purple from where she clawed and dug and hurled her body into me.

Another vet tech came in to help hold her down, and the screaming OH MY GOD THE SCREAMING BECAUSE THERE’S A THERMOMETER UP MY BUTT almost shattered the window. Right then a family with a little boy came in and he immediately burst into tears because That Poor Dog Must Be DYING. Someone ran out to reassure them that she was fine, that the dog wasn’t dying.

When they were done violating Penny with the thermometer, the asked a bunch of detailed questions about when she ate it, how much did she eat, did she have any symptoms before today. They decided to do some blood tests and go from there. As an afterthought the vet asked if they could take X-Rays if nothing showed up in her blood.

I signed my house over to them (I already put the vet’s son through vet school with Callie, the dog we had before Gracie) and left Penny there while I went home to get out of my PJs and take care of Gracie. (Yes, I was pretty much in my PJs and slippers but I did manage to brush my teeth and wash my face before I left.)

When they called me a couple of hours later the vet told me that no she isn’t dying from rat poison, but yes, she swallowed a metal zipper. Right then I looked down at her new dog bed and saw that the zipper was missing. Just the metal tab—not the whole zipper track. The screaming was from the pain of it moving from her stomach into her intestines.

They wanted to keep her there overnight hooked up to IV fluids so they could X-Ray her every two or three hours to see if the zipper would move on its own. They wanted to monitor it because they were afraid it would perforate her intestines. They were hoping it would just pass so we could avoid surgery.

By about 8:00 a.m. the next morning—26 hours after this whole thing started—we were on Poop Alert. In case you aren’t familiar, it’s that awesome sport that dog owners play when their dogs eat something totally inappropriate. Every time they go, someone has to go and sort through it to see if the object has expelled itself (in case you’re wondering, this is when I went through this with Gracie). Going through Penny’s poop turned out to be some poor vet assistant’s job that day. By noon, Penny had passed the zipper. No damage was done to her stomach. Bill likes to say that paid the vet $1,000 to watch her go to the crap.

To make that situation worse, while all of this was going on, I made the epic mistake of posting a status update on Facebook that said something to the effect of “Penny ate a poison rat and is very sick. Keep her in your thoughts.” People commented on it all morning and sent good wishes, which was sweet. I did talk to a few people over the phone about it, including the woman who owns Penny’s father. However, the actual breeder (the woman who owns her mom) saw it that afternoon, realized I hadn’t posted an update in four hours and called me up screaming, “Oh my GOD, she’s dead, isn’t she???” Now, she’s unhinged in the best of circumstance and, honestly, I sort of forgot we’re Facebook friends, otherwise, I never in a million years would have put anything up there.

She became unglued thinking that because there was no update that Penny had passed away. I finally calmed her down and reassured her that Penny was alive and drugged with pain meds and an IV drip at the emergency hospital. Who would have thought THAT was the better option?

After that, I got no fewer than 653 calls from her that day. She was questioning how good my vet is, questioning his treatment protocol, questioning my “parenting” skills (but in a really passive-aggressive way).

I was so glad when Penny crapped out that zipper. Mostly because I was so happy she was fine. But also so I could stop having to talk to the breeder.

And that? Was only the beginning of my crazy week.

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