So it must have been weeks now since the humans gathered to enjoy their endless parade of food.  I can still smell the roasted meats.  Partly that's because they take it out of the box with the cold doors and heat it up day and night.  The worst thing about the food parade is how little of it I actually got.  I can see the food, I can smell the food and every once in awhile I can taste a crumb of the food, but none of the food seems to find it's way into my bowl.  It's a process I can't begin to understand.  I heard mother telling Anna that it's about "being thankful for everything we have".  I guess the faithful companionship that Bea and I provide so willingly is not included in the things she's thankful for.

Based on the pets we've seen this week, no one else got to enjoy food from the feasts either. We did have a scare from some Boxer sisters that were left home alone with two pumpkin pies.  When their parents got home the pies, tins and all, were gone.  Of course, those girls kept their mouths shut and didn't get sick even once. Mother's worried that the pie tins haven't been seen either.  "I'll bet the dogs just pushed them under the oven or the fridge, even Boxers can't digest aluminum" she said.  I don't know what the aluminum is, but if it tastes like pie, I'd try it!

Mother's biggest problem this week came from one of our tiniest patients.  Nutmeg Place was a 4 lb Chihuahua that came to see her for trouble walking.  "We only left her alone for a few hours two nights ago and she hasn't been able to walk right since. We think she may have broken her hip!" her dad, Rock, said.  Nutmeg couldn't stand up on her own, and when made to stand, all of her little legs would buckle and collapse. Mother knew that the tiny dog was in trouble. "None of her legs are working properly" she explained while placing Nutmeg's small paws upside down on the table.  Her paws just stayed knuckled over.  "This means that the spinal cord in her neck has a problem. It's most likely from a pinched disk and she needs to be seen by a neurologist immediately"  mother instructed.   Nutmeg's mom, Hart, said they couldn't go, so mother gave Nutmeg some pinches instead.  "It's very important that she stay strictly rested for the next two weeks. If she's too active she can make things worse" mother instructed.  "Now you're sure it's not a broken hip?" Hart asked.  Mother assured her that all of her other legs would be working if only one was broken.  "Don't you need x-rays to know if she's broken?" Rock asked.  "We do like to take x-rays to investigate a problem like this, but we would need to sedate her for x-rays of her neck and if surgery is not an option, there is only one treatment left, and that's medicine"  mother worked to explain.  It was at this point, that I knew mother was stuck between a Rock and a Hart Place. 
Over the next 5 days, there were questions and calls every day.  Nutmeg did well for the first few days and was back "running in the yard when her back legs stopped moving altogether" Mrs. Place told Vonnie yesterday.  "I figured that lady vet just didn't know my dog so she had to be wrong" she volunteered. Vonnie's only answer was the number to the nerve-ologist. 

So today, mother found out that Nutmeg has since been to see two specialists (because the first one didn't know Nutmeg very well either) and the results were that all the doctors recommended the same thing:  Nutmeg has to have surgery to get better.  Mother smiled sadly and said "I guess I knew her dog pretty well after all!" 
Mother knows me pretty well too.  Now, if she would just put some of the super smelling roasted meat in with my dinner, I could be really thankful as well.

Lessons learned

So life in the clinic has slowly returned to normal.  My parents had three whole days where they didn't have to say good-bye to any of the pet patients. 
It seems like what I've been hearing more than anything this week is "Wow, talk about learning a lesson the hard way!"  

One such lesson was taught by a Cocker Spaniel named Lady.  As a puppy she was adored by all, and no one could be in the same room with her without squealing "ooooooh, how cute!".  Her folks were such proud parents and brought her every few weeks to get her puppy pokes.  By the time she was ready for her sleeping procedure to remove her girls parts -- what my mom calls "puppy prevention" -- she had lost some of her puppy cuteness and seemingly some of her parents devotion.  "We do want to get her spayed" Lady's dad said "but things are getting tight and we're going to shop around for prices to get the surgery done".  Sweet Sally tried to explain the care that she takes with every sleeping patient, but Lady's dad wasn't listening.  That was the last we saw of Lady until yesterday.  It had been months since she had been in for a visit, and months since her surgery.  "She started acting really sick yesterday and hasn't wanted to eat or drink, and then this morning I noticed the sore on her belly.  What do you think that could be?" Lady's dad asked.   Mother took one look at the red, hot and oozing Cocker belly and said "Oh!"  in that surprised-but-trying-not-to-sound-alarmed kind of way.  After a closer look under the green smelly scab, the skin started to fall away over the place where her belly button used to be.  Mother and Sweet Sally took a sample of the green goo and looked into her my-crow-scope, "Yep, white blood cells and bacteria, this is the source of her 104.2 fever", mother confirmed.  Mother was less condemning when talking with Lady's dad "Dogs can have suture reactions after surgery, and if she licked the area after surgery she could have planted the bacteria in the sutures.".  Lady was given a big poke of Antie Biotics and sent home with two containers full of pills.  Vocal Vonie yiped in after they left, "Well, if you ask me, you get what you pay for.  Low cost spay means low cost suture, stuff not sterilized, and who know what other corners they cut.  I wish we could help people to realize just how risky it can be.  It's just too bad for Lady" Vonnie barked on.  Mother said "So long as the infection is just in the skin and surrounding tissue we're ok, if it goes into her abdomen, then it's a whole other problem.  At least she only has to be spayed once."

The other lesson had a happy ending.  Spotsie is a Papillon that is completely adored by her mother.  She is so adored that she never leaves her mothers arms.   When Vocal Vonnie once asked about getting a microchip put in Spotsie the answer she got was "But why?  She never leaves my arms.".  'Never' to humans, means never until they go away on vacation and leave you at home with your human sister.  And apparently no one ever told Spotsie's sister to carry her everywhere because as soon as she hit the ground she was off.  She disappeared for two full days.  Dancing Debbie first took the call asking if we had seen the missing Papillon.  Her first question to the caller was "Is she microchipped?".  Luckily, Spotsie was found flirting with some workers in an empty lot not far from her home.  She was limping,had a bee stinger in her leg, and was really thirsty but otherwise seemed impressively composed. 
I admit, I don't know what I would do for two days away from home -- no laps to lie in, no food and water brought to me on request, and I shudder to think of what might happen to Bea's ears in my absence.  Thank goodness for microchips, I don't know how they work, but I can sleep easy knowing that I have one. 

Pack of poodles

It took awhile for the humans to stop making the water come from their eyes, but by the afternoon, things at the clinic felt like they were getting back to normal.

Mother says, "nothing makes you feel better than a hug from a poodle!" and as luck would have it, we had 3 poodles in the clinic at the same time.  Taco, Moe and Jax all happened to be visiting at the same time, and all for different reasons.  Vonnie says, "They're just brothers from different mothers".  Mother says, "happiness is a poodle in your arms".  The small one, Moe, showed up bright and early at the clinic -- he arrived before I did.  At first I didn't even think he was a poodle, he was nothing more than a head in a bed. 

Pretty soon, mother was carrying him around hugging him and I realized that he was a mere canine with four legs like the rest of us.

Bea wonders why I don't get jealous with all the poodle-hugging going on, but I'm pretty confident of my top dog position around here.  After all I was the one licking the salty water off mother's face last night, not one of the fluffy poodleheads.  Mother says Bea and I just aren't as smart as the poodles, but I don't remember ever reading a poodle blog before, or even wanting to for that matter.  Enough barked.  

The past 5 days have been some of the longest for my parents.  They were busy through the weekend with one of our super special dog friends.  Mother said, "Don't you dare blog about this, Ronnie.  Because you can't help but be cute, and there is nothing cute about this story." 

So my paws have been still, my tongue quiet. 

Today the sad story came to a tragic conclusion.  I gave dogs honor that I wouldn't blog about it, but with water streaming down her face, mother wrote a poem that I wanted to bark out to the world:

A veterinarian's lament:

You come to me with eyes so sad,
you wish you didn't feel so bad.
You never complain, or cry, or whine,
and I wanted to say "you'll be just fine."
Just take these pills, you'll feel brand new,
but sicker you got, after only taking a few.

Over the years you've been in so much,
with your parents we were forever in touch.
Always a delicate stomach, and then bladder stones too,
We perservered and you sailed right through.
High fat in your blood, even a broken toe,
we would fix you up and off you'd go.

But this time was different, this time was bad,
you used up all of the cells that you had.
You didn't like the pills, and the pills really didn't like you,
and despite all the drugs away your time flew.

As patients go, you were the best,
never a growl or a snarl for any test.
All you wanted was to get back to your bed,
and back to your family of which you were head.
Four doctors you had, and no one a clue,
as to what, if anything different we could do.

Your parents so loving, wanted only what's best
and instead they were forced to lay you to rest.
You presence so strong, your abscence leaving them hollow,
and your pawprints so big, no other will be able to follow.
And now you are gone, and I can't explain why,
and all I can do is just sit and cry,
and hope, hope, hope, hope
that tomorrow no one will die.


            

I sure am glad that Halloween is over. Sweet Sally got caught up on her rest at her den, and is back at work looking a lot more like herself now.  I don't miss the spooky pumpkins or the giant spiders being thrown around either.  And now that all the candy collecting has happenened there are always sweet crumbs to find on the floor.
My parents are staying busy.  Each day we see more and more of our friends that went to the place called 'Up North' for the summer.  I guess Up North closes in the winter.

My sisters on my father's side, Mona and Daisy, are visiting this week. They brought along their evil cat sister, Grizelda.  Vocal Vonnie calls her "the meanest cat in the world!"  No one is allowed to even walk by her condo without getting hissed and swatted at.  Mother says she's so mean and busy frowning all the time, that her face just froze that way!

Most of our visitors have been in for the happy calls, eating lots of treats and getting their nails done.

Today I saw something I've never seen before.  The giant brown lab named Lake insisted on paying for his visit. With wagging tail, he gladly carried his dad's rawhide pouch filled with paper, up to Laughing Laura.  Pretty soon, all the humans were laughing. I have to paw it to him, it was a pretty good trick.  I don't think my dad's paper-filled pouch will fit in my mouth, and, of course, if it did, I might find some other things to buy with it.  But Lake was doing us dogs proud with a high brow trick like that. I just might be up all night working on something that can top it!!