Berry was euthanized today. He was a sweet little fellow and he deserved better.
Sleep Well, Berry Berry Sweet Dog
Puppies
Berry Berry Bad
So, the Berry Berry Sweet Dog is not getting better in spite of my efforts and that of the vet’s. So today” I took him back to Olson’s Animal Hospital fand we learned that he’d lost another 1.25 pounds. He now weighs 6.9 lbs. He was almost 9 lbs. when this adventure began and that was after a week of not eating much. Bless his sweet little heart. He’s been on antibiotics and decongestants, but whatever has a hold on him is not letting go.
Berry, Dr. Olson and Sasha
Dr. Olson wants to keep him which is good because I told him that after losing Doug to a long illness and then Babette, my nerves are shot. This sweet little dog is never going to bond with me as long as I keep torturing him with pills and force-feeding. I’m sure Plan B which involves injectable antibiotics, IV for his poor little dehydrated body, and Sasha (the tech) doing the force-feeding is going to be good.
I love my vet. I got hooked up with him quite by accident. When my mom was running Doggie Daycare, Babette came down with a life threatening, indeed we nearly lost her, uterine infection. I told Mom to take her to the vet and I’d meet her there. I gave her directions. She went to the wrong vet. What a serendipitous event! Dr. Olsen and his staff are everything you want in a pet care team. He saved Babette and I’m comfortable about Berry’s future.
All of this has been nerve-wracking. Babette died while I was already grieving. Berry showed up in a rather spectacular way and now he’s in very bad shape. I really am a mess. I need this little dog and he needs me. All this chaos!
But I glanced at my magnet laden refrigerator this morning and found a Nietzsche quote I love:
One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.
I think Berry’s name is now going to be short for Baryshnikov. I promised him I would be back for him. My little Mishka!
Every Body and a Lot of Things Took a Bath Sunday
Every Body and a Lot of Things Took a Bath Sunday
OK, that’s an exaggeration. The two cats did not have a bath though it may not be a bad idea.
The day started with Berry getting a bath. Early evening I had a long, luxurious soak. We’re wrapping up the evening with patio cushions soaking in the tub. In beween bathing events in the tub, there were laundry, dishes, more laundry, and another glorious day in the garden.
Little Berry Berry is still quite sick. Per the vet’s instructions, I have been feeding him extremely stinky critical care food watered down to the consistency of gruel via a syringe shoved into his mouth every two hours. It’s not pleasant for either of us, but he hasn’t eaten much at all for nearly 3 weeks. Critical care, indeed.
The good news is he seems a little better; the bad news is the gruesome gruel method of feeding provoked a bout of diarrhea this morning. And so we had Bath No. 1.
He was filthy before the attack of diarrhea, but it was harmless dirt. I didn’t want to bathe him given how sick he is and how cold it is. However, the stinky food excreted and soaked into his fur made a bath mandatory. He’s lost nearly 25% of his body weight over the past weeks and every lost ounce showed once he was soaked and lathered.
Poor little guy. We are not going to properly bond at this rate. The wet dog in the picture is Babette. Little Berry looked even more pitiful.
The diarrhea necessitated the washing of couch throws and pillows, my pajamas and the floor. All three probably needed cleaning anyway, but I really wanted to get into the garden. However, stinky critical care food excreted through the bowels of a sick dog left me no choice. I hate being a grownup pretty much all the time, but today especially so.
I did finally get into the garden. I managed to tame the leaves in the fenced part of the yard. The new little electric lawn mower is a peachy leaf mulcher and the old electric leaf blower is a champion mulch placement device. The garden beds giggled as I tucked them in with a couple inches of leafy blanket.
I do not understand why people wage such wars against leaves -war that involves raking and bagging or raking and burning. Chopped up leaves are a blessing and a boon to garden soil particularly that which tends toward clay. And mine doesn’t just tend; I could open a pottery studio. But over the years, leaf mulching has made it possible for me to plant daffodils like a normal gardener which means I don’t have to use the pick axe and auger.
By the time I was done, various body parts were complaining loudly. I crawled into the bathtub with Dr. Teal’s Chamomile Epson Salt Moisturizing Bubble Bath. Epsom salts are a gift! Sore muscles and menopause symptoms both will benefit from a long, leisurely soak in slickery, fragrant Epsom salts.
Following the bath, it was time for the next gruesome gruel feeding, but thankfully this one was uneventful. I was thus able to drag patio cushions upstairs to soak in a bath doctored with dishwashing soap and Oxyclean. After the wet summer, I’m afeared the mildew stains are permanent. I’ll probably ending up “dying” the cushions with house stain. I don’t really want dark brown cushions, but they’ll probably not show dirt like pale blue does.
So now I’m sitting here drinking wine from the Dollar General (no kidding – another blog post for another time) and thinking about the conversation I just had with Chef Boy ‘R Mine. Damn, I raised him well. (Connie preens and twirls.)
A Berry, Berry Sweet Dog
Babette and the Toddlers
The Berry Berry Sweet Dog is my new-to-me Shih Tzu although I object to the wording of that as he is not my possession, but my roommate.
I hadn’t expected to get another dog so soon, but life had other ideas.
The Beautiful Babette was mostly Shih Tzu. I’ve forgotten the details of her story, but I have always regarded her as a rescue. She arrived at my house after spending a short time at a friend’s. At the time, I had two other dogs, affectionately dubbed “The Toddlers,” that sucked up all the attention in the room. Babette was in the background, thankful for any attention she got, and as sweet as a dog could possibly be.
When I got Babette , the vet estimated her age between six and eight. By the time Chef Boy ‘R Mine took The Toddlers to live with him, Babette was an aging beauty who got sweeter with every passing day.
My mother ran Doggie Daycare as she hated the idea of Babette rattling around the barn alone. When Doug came to live with me, Babette left Doggie Daycare to be with him with the occasional forays to Grandma’s house – particularly on the days she snuck under the fence.
Snoozy Babette
Babette began going downhill quickly before Doug’s death. She reached the point where her back legs didn’t work so well, her vision was poor and her hearing was beginning to go. I think she knew I needed her and hung on. Frequently while Doug was in the hospital, I would run home to see if she was still breathing. She hung on another three and half months after Doug’s death.
I had vowed that I would not allow her to feel any pain and would take her to the vet for the last great journey of life. I promised her. And I kept that promise. On October 3rd, Babette went to sleep for the last time.
My mother and I buried her in the garden near the spot in the fence that she used to do her Houdini act. It was sad and I mourned her. Simultaneously, I both missed having a dog and loved not having a dog to take care of, particularly an elderly dog who couldn’t really walk any longer.
Berry Berry Sweet Dog
In the goofiness that is my life, the picture of a dog appeared on my Facebook exactly two weeks after Babette’s death. I was stunned. The dog could have been Babette. The caption stated he was 6 or 7 and had been owner surrendered to the local kill shelter.
Of course I went down there and, of course, I was horrified. And, of course, I didn’t leave him there. He’d been surrendered the same day Babette died.
I found him with a bad case of kennel cough, an upper respiratory infection, and two infected ears. He also has cataracts and is probably deaf. He’s also 11, not 6 or 7. The vet bills to get him well are mounting and he still won’t eat. He’s lost more than a pound since I’ve had him and he doesn’t weight a whole lot of pounds. Right now, he’s topping off at a whopping six pounds. I’m worried about him.
Snoozy Berry
He might be grieving himself. His owner took him there as her arthritis had become debilitating and she couldn’t take care of him. I’m sure she tried to find someone to take him, but who wants a nearly blind, maybe deaf dog that’s 11? Me, that’s who.
He’s exquisitely well-trained although the vet tells me I haven’t seen his real personality yet as he’s too sick to be himself.
I wish he would eat.
The vet’s assistant told me her mother had sponsored him. She had been dropping off supplies to the shelter, noticed him and how sick he was, and she couldn’t stand it. She had to go out of town, but she sponsored him so he wouldn’t be killed before she could get back in town or be adopted by someone else.
Are you hearing Twilight Zone music yet?
I could have named him Rod Sterling. They were calling him Buddy at the shelter and he is so not a Buddy. He’s much too dignified and polite to bear a moniker Larry the Cable Guy would name his dog. So, what did I name him? Berry.
I named him Berry because one night I was cooing and talking baby talk to him and said, “You are a berry, berry sweet dog.” He gave me a kiss. My first and only Berry kiss thus far.
He’s a keeper, but I wish he would eat. I’m tired of fretting about him.
