Operation Nightmare

Continuing with our Nightmare story...

We were scheduled to go to the vet with her to get some tissue samples under anaesthesia.

We arrived there very early in the morning, when the doctor and the nurses were just having tea. The vet seemed very confident but we were apprehensive because of the sedative and also her infection...

The doctor and a nurse got ready and took the dog in one of the back rooms for the surgery and we were asked to wait in the waiting room. Of course we asked to join her as moral support, but we were politely asked not to.

My husband said he would go to a shop a few streets away to take out money from the ATM machine and also buy a few snacks. I waited patiently, tried to read, stare at the walls, make small talk with the older nurse, but I just couldn't concentrate. It was taking too long. The surgery and my husband's trip. Although my watch was telling me otherwise. I should know, I stared at it every other minute. Luckily, the older nurse was allowed to peek into the back room, so she checked and told us the dog was safely sedated and didn't show any problems.

My husband was finally back and we waited together, sampling some ridiculous "fruit water" he had found at the shop. The surgery really was taking too long.

After about two hours or so, the older nurse came in to tell us the doctor was stitching up the dog's forehead and she would be awake soon.

When the doctor came out, we bombarded him with questions. He had in fact cleaned out the infection completely, so it should heal without any more medication. He had also taken the tissue samples and would send them to a laboratory. He was very optimistic about the black dog.

We asked if we could go see her. He said yes, so we hurried to the room. She was lying on the floor, crying and trembling. She was trying to move, but her muscles were no help. Her pupils were dilated and I doubt she was able to see anything. My husband said her hearing sensitivity was most likely also heightened. We stayed with her, petting her, holding her and preventing her from hurting herself.

She gradually stopped whining and her pupils adjusted. She was eventually able to lift her head, then stand up.

Meanwhile, my husband went to the front to pay, when he realised he had forgotten to take out the money from the ATM. He had taken the card back but not the money.

The vet needed cash for the lab tests because he had to pay them in cash too, so we drove back to the shop (it was the closest ATM) and we took out more cash. He was also able to confirm with the shop manager that nobody had taken the money and the machine had retrieved the bills.

We hurried back to the vet and I waited in the car while my husband went to pay and fetch the dog. When he came back, he said the vet had undercharged us - we pair only the lab tests and the anaesthesic (probably less than the normal fee). He had insisted to pay more (we are not short on money anymore), but the vet would not have any of it. He had also taken to the gentle black dog.

My husband afterwards sent the vet a couple of small gifts to thank him for helping us with the dog. I also included a couple of tatted trinkets for the nurses.

The test results were in shortly and turned out fine, so the black dog should have no complications. We would still need to take care of her head and make her wear a protective collar, but she was going to be OK.

Our dear little Frankenstein's monster having breakfast in bed.

Trials and tribulations with Nightmare

Continuing the Nightmare tale...

If you remember, I mentioned that the dog had a pretty bad infection on her forehead, which had oozed out and caked the fur around the wound.

My first order of business the next day after taking her in was to try to clean the wound as well as I could. The only disinfectant I had around was medicinal alcohol, but that one really stings. So I went with "grandma's recipe", camomile tea.

It took me about half an hour to clean the fur and then the wound and, even if the tea is very mild and wouldn't hurt her, my patting and rubbing surely caused her quite a bit of discomfort. Surprisingly though, she made no move to stop me or draw away, she just lay there with her eyes closed, in complete resignation.

Feeling down in the dumps, poor girl...

She was actually quite lethargic the first couple of days, sleeping a lot, eating only a little and generally unwilling to walk around much. She was also picky about the food and didn't want the kibble or treats Aschiuta had at the time. I eventually bought her a can of dog food and she seemed to like that. She also liked mozzarella. I later on bought a brand of kibble (Bosch) that we used to feed Aschiuta when we were on a budget at the vet's recommendation and which we have kept giving her from time to time. The big black dog seemed to like the kibble, so it is again a staple in the dogs' diet.

But I digress... After cleaning her wound, I continued to do it from time to time, since it was still suppurating. I decided I would have to finish work early and try to take her to the vet. This way we would get her wound checked and also verify if she had a microchip.

Our vet is not very close by and usually with Aschiuta it takes me about 30 minutes on foot. I gathered my usual supplies of bags and tissues, put the leash on the dog and we were on our merry way to the vet.

Unfortunately, we didn't get too far. We had just reached the public street (yes, there are private streets in my town...) in front of our building and made a few steps, when the dog decided she was not going to take another step. In neither direction. She planted herself on the ground, just like when climbing stairs, and would not budge. After a few good minutes of trying to coax her to go further, I had to spend almost as much time convincing her to go back. We were going home, no more scary long walks.

We would need to switch to plan B then... taking our car. Luckily, we have our own car, complete with safety accessories for doggies. But more about that next time...

Traumas and phobias

Continuing our Nightmare tale...

Where we last left off, we had just taken in the anonymous (back then) black dog in our home.

My husband said he would set up an inflatable mattress and sleep in the kitchen with her, while I would nap in the living room with Aschiuta.

Easier said than done, for my side at least. I kept tossing and turning, wondering what we were going to do. I was afraid the dog would be reckless or traumatised or not potty trained (actually that was the least of my concerns). I had all sorts of concerns, a new one on each side of the pillow.

In the morning, I decided to work from home and stay to take care of the dog while Scorp went to work.

First things first. The dog would need to go out and do her business, so she would get into the routine and not leave us any "presents" inside the house.

However, there was a problem that had shown up the night before when trying to bring the new dog home. The dog absolutely refused to go up the stairs. She climbed the few steps leading to the front door of the building and up to the first landing and then she simply tried to back up frantically, as if she were being hurt by the stairs. My husband had to carry her in his arms all the way to the 5th floor.

Now, I have myself been a dog carrier for a long time, carrying Aschiuta in my arms all the way to the vet when she was smaller or even lately, to pretend that I wouldn't let her make paw prints on the freshly washed floors, I would carry her up the stairs. But even that is only until the 2nd or 3rd floor.

The new dog was larger than Aschiuta, I would not be able to carry her up and down the stairs. Luckily, the elevator had been installed and working (most of the time), so we rode the elevator. She seemed almost used to this means of transportation, which makes me believe she had used it before.

She seemed to understand what the walks were for and left some "presents" for me to magically make disappear. I took her 3 or 4 times the first day, because she took so long to do anything and didn't do everything all at once.

I kept her shut in the kitchen while I worked and visited with her during breaks. I felt like a new mother and also a nurse. Because, besides the staircase phobia, our new friend also had a serious health problem... an infected wound on her forehead. But more on that later...

Bad booboo on such a sweet face...

Scarface

Arr! The pooch has gone out to sea, trying her luck at becoming a pirate. She even fought in a vicious sea battle that gave her a new nickname for a while, Scarface.

How did that happen? Did she come out of it victorious? Was there any treasure?

It all started with a short trip to the seaside with some friends, where we also took little Aschiuta. Now this was last year and you will be happy to know that the pooch has no need for an eye-patch.

You must know that our pooch is not the kind of dog that can be off-leash, least of all on a crowded beach. She runs off to meet people with food, throw sand on towels and pick a fight with other dogs if there are any. So, we always keep the leash on her.

One time though, she was napping on the sand so nicely, that I assumed she would stay like that while I read a bit, so I let go of the leash. Poof! Poochie performed a disappearing act.

Very comfy pooch. Too comfy...

She ran off a few towels farther after a dog she saw behind us, which she began to quarrel with. You must also know that, although she seems vicious, she really doesn't hurt any of the dogs she fights with. But she also doesn't know that they can hurt her.

We ran after her and Scorpio managed to catch her and break the fight. The other dog was fine, but Aschiuta had a nasty scratch on her left upper eyelid that was bleeding slightly.

We of course picked up our things and, since we were in a small village with lots of fast food places but no vet (none that would be open on a weekend anyway), I made her some chamomile tea to at least try to disinfect the eye and we drove off for home. Why chamomile tea? Because I used to have frequent eye infections and the chamomile tea helped. There was an improvement in poochie's scratches too.

We quickly went to a vet and, after consulting her, said that only the inner lid was a bit grazed, but the eye was fine. She must have had the reflex of closing her eyes, phew. The doctor disinfected the wound, prescribed her some eye drops and sent us home.

This photo was taken a day or so after getting back home. She was squinting because of the camera flash.

For a few days, the left eye produced more tears and we were often wiping her eye, but slowly, it got better and now you can only see a very faint scar if you look very closely. Most of the hair and eyelash in that spot also grew back. We are very happy that she has recovered so well.

This was taken close to her birthday this year. You can barely see any scar.

I must say though, it was all my fault for letting go of the leash that day. I was careless and things could have been worse. I'm sorry, poochie!