A pretty good ending to a traumatic day
Having a geriatric and deeply beloved dog means that every few weeks something happens that gives me a heart attack and I must immediately share the heart attack with all of you (as well as with all of my Facebook friends, my family, and my next-door neighbors).
Just a few weeks ago, Boscoe was doing so well he was practically robust. He was romping in the yard, happily going on walks, trying to mount Riley, looking good. We planned a vacation Up North. Then a week or so ago I thought I noticed an uptick in his water drinking--a sign that the diabetes might be progressing. But it was hard to be sure.
We waited and watched. He seemed OK until earlier this week, when suddenly he became skinny, and weak, and trembly and about a hundred years old. He balked on walks. He shook and looked miserable.
We called and set up a glucose curve test for him for 8 a.m. Thursday, and then, when he seemed to get worse, moved it up to today. It's an all-day test, and expensive, and he hates being at the vet, and Riley hates being home alone, but it had to be done.
During breakfast, Boscoe lay next to me, his head on my knee. I moved to get up and he shrieked and moaned--in pain, but where? What? I looked at him. He stopped moaning, but he just seemed so *old.* Well, he is old. He is 14 years and three months.
Hearing his moan, watching him stumble, agitated me. I went in the kitchen and put my nervous energy to work (and now the top of our stove is sparkling clean). What are you laughing at? Have you never cleaned a stove at six o'clock in the morning?
Doug brought Boscoe in at 8, and Riley stayed home in the dark house all alone, and I went to work and fretted.
This evening, Boscoe hopped out of the Jeep looking pretty good. What's for dinner, sweetheart? his eyes said to me. How's it going, chump? he might have said to Riley as he swaggered past. Even though all they had done at the vet clinic was test him, for some reason he was no longer trembling, no longer moaning, and his face looked like it had filled out. Crazy damn dog.
The vet says we have to up his insulin by another unit--from five to six--and resume pain medication, but he has the green light to go with us Up North on Saturday and walk around in the woods.
I went out onto the back porch to watch him toddle around the yard with Riley, and, whoa! Tomatoes! Our neighbor left us three gorgeous tomatoes on the porch table. I looked over at their yard, and, whoa! A new rabbit has moved in. It was hunched in the grass, busily nibbling away. I hope he finds our basement window well. This day just keeps getting better.
We called and set up a glucose curve test for him for 8 a.m. Thursday, and then, when he seemed to get worse, moved it up to today. It's an all-day test, and expensive, and he hates being at the vet, and Riley hates being home alone, but it had to be done.
During breakfast, Boscoe lay next to me, his head on my knee. I moved to get up and he shrieked and moaned--in pain, but where? What? I looked at him. He stopped moaning, but he just seemed so *old.* Well, he is old. He is 14 years and three months.
Hearing his moan, watching him stumble, agitated me. I went in the kitchen and put my nervous energy to work (and now the top of our stove is sparkling clean). What are you laughing at? Have you never cleaned a stove at six o'clock in the morning?
Doug brought Boscoe in at 8, and Riley stayed home in the dark house all alone, and I went to work and fretted.
This evening, Boscoe hopped out of the Jeep looking pretty good. What's for dinner, sweetheart? his eyes said to me. How's it going, chump? he might have said to Riley as he swaggered past. Even though all they had done at the vet clinic was test him, for some reason he was no longer trembling, no longer moaning, and his face looked like it had filled out. Crazy damn dog.
The vet says we have to up his insulin by another unit--from five to six--and resume pain medication, but he has the green light to go with us Up North on Saturday and walk around in the woods.
I went out onto the back porch to watch him toddle around the yard with Riley, and, whoa! Tomatoes! Our neighbor left us three gorgeous tomatoes on the porch table. I looked over at their yard, and, whoa! A new rabbit has moved in. It was hunched in the grass, busily nibbling away. I hope he finds our basement window well. This day just keeps getting better.
Thursday morning update: Look what I saw when I went down the basement to exercise this morning:
Same bunny? New bunny? Who cares? Cheers!
