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It's a little humid, huh buddy? #floof #fluff #turboears #pug #puglife #instapug #pugsofinstagram #pugstagram #instadog #pekapug #puginese #pekelife #pekingese #pekestagram #pekesofinstagram #instapeke #squishyfacesquad #humid #puppy #thoseears
#Exciting night over here! #Shoomie is fighting off sleep (and not succeeding). 🐶💤 #mostboringvideoever #pekelife (at Russian House of Love)
Her favorite toy and its the same size of her. #pekignese #pekelove #pekelife
Khaleesi chewing on her treat. #pekignese #pekelove #pekelife
Worst Day Ever-July 23rd 2012
Clarence's post surgery hang out-Laundry Basket
"Come on Clarence! Time to go to work."
Clarence stepped off of his pillow and started screaming. Not whining, not whimpering, but SCREAMING. He immediately started dragging himself around the living room; back end limp, front end like something out of "The Ring." A trail of piss and shit bringing up the rear.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
The night before we decided to put Clarence on crate rest again. Why not save our selves a trip to the ER and a few space bucks? He was displaying signs we had seen before, we still had some pain medication left from our first trip to the ER...it didn't seem like this was something we had to panic about. He'd sleep it off during the night, and I'd take him to work the next day to make sure I could closely monitor him.
Syke!
I was by myself during this horror scene, Gumbo was already in the car, and Clarence would not stop moving or screaming. My brain immediately went into list mode as a coping mechanism.
Okay. This is happening, what do I need to do in order to take back control of the situation?
1. Get Gumbo out of the car.
2. Figure out how to contain Clarence while I walk outside to get Gumbo.
3. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
4. Call Clarence's father (who's already at work 1.5 hours away in NJ.)
5. How am I transporting Clarence to the vet, I can't catch him? OH! Travel crate is downstairs.
6. Do I clean up the shit and piss before I go? (No.)
7. Where in car do I put him? He won't stop moving even in the travel crate and he just keeps SHITTING. SO MUCH SHIT.
The car ride
I finally figured out the logistics and Clarence and I were in route to UPenn Vet ER. He was still screaming but at least I had him contained in a crate, in the rear of my hatchback where the surface was nice and flat and safe.
Parked in the ER car lot, my grown-up impulse to save the day and handle my business died. The parking lot attendant became the new adult in the situation. I let him know I had an emergency, he called a gurney out to the car, and hugged me while I lost my shit.
P(ekes).R.E.A.M $$$$$$
The doctor confirmed what was already completely obvious: Clarence ruptured two discs and needed surgery to alleviate the pain. They were not hopeful he'd walk again but it didn't matter...he was in pain he needed the surgery...just fix it.
When your dog is in pain and you are in a solid economically middle class situation with good jobs split between two young adults with no children and a couple of Southwest Airlines points card you don't ask questions. You just charge it and deal with the ramifications afterwards.
FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS LATER Clarence was out of surgery. He was out of pain, and my husband and I were just starting our ride on the stress roller coaster.
Four days later we allowed to take him home but not before a terrifying "intro to caring for your newly handicapped dog" tutorial from the doctor.
"You want me to do what with his bladder?!"
To be continued....
The Rules
For some reason or another my husband wasn't home and I was in charge of walking both dogs by myself.
Following the new safety rules (implemented since Clarence's first scare) I took Gumbo first, Clarence second.
Our theory was that walking the dogs separately would allow a single human to better control the dog's physical being in an emergency such as:
to save them from a stray pit-bull mauling
from terrorizing (or being being terrorized by) a small human child
stray cat attack
Gumbo's walk...went well. Lots of sniffing, lots of ground scratching, huge poop. Exemplary performance compared to his normal "drag" around the block. We set the bar low for him, he climbs there slowly every time.
Next up: Clarence.
My husband and I considered Clarence to be our REAL walker. His cruising pace averaged about 15 minutes around a city block (to Gumbo's 20, 25.) Real dog speed with only a touch of feline obstinacy.
We were nearly home when THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER OF DOOM hopped into our neighbor's window to let Clarence know he was on the wrong side of the block.
For those of you not familiar: The front window of a Philadelphia row home is a peek into the owners life. Be it art show, terrarium, shrine, holiday decorations or in this case, animal menagerie.
It's not uncommon to see a pet hanging out on top of a sofa beside a front window with their nose pressed against the glass waiting to scare the shit out of passers by.
The window in question-Fishtown, Philadelphia:
Attack of the fluff blob
Clarence is VERY dog reactive. He hates fast dogs, he hates loud dogs, he hates dogs he can not get to. He hates this dog. He hates him so much he flips himself OVER onto his BACK by trying to jump at the window while leashed to KILL THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
I collected my fluffy sack of rage and sprinted around the corner to my house. I sat him down next to my steps and started to access whether or not his fragile spine had survived the fall by poking him and asking if telling him he was okay. (Because why not?)
The doctor said that I would KNOW if a disc had been ruptured. There would be zero doubt between an actual rupture and the type of "inflammation" he had had before.
Other than being red eyed and slightly shaken...Clarence seemed okay. I brought him into the house happy that we'd dodged a bullet. Until the next morning...
The doctor had been right, I knew the exact millisecond the rupture happened.
To be continued...
Clarence at the ICU. Alert and responsive to the word “bone.” He’s doing AOK.
-July 24th 2012 (Day after surgery.)
This mess started a few months prior to the rupture in April, 2012 when I yanked Clarence by his harness off of a poodle puppy he was trying to maul.
Clarence is not and will never be a fan of being humped. He also hates puppies, and is inexplicably breed racist (breedist?) towards poodles. This dog interaction for him was the perfect storm.
Unfortunately, my attempt to save the poodle by yanking Clarence by his harness started a downward spiral of medical bills, human guilt, relationship stress, and most sadly, the loss of use in Clarence’s two back ham hocks.
Our first trip to the vet happened two days after the poodle incident.
Previous to this, our household had a “three day” rule when it came to dog illness. If Gumbo (my oldest dog) or Clarence didn’t “snap out of it” in three days we’d take them to the vet.
This time was different…Clarence was hiding under the couch panting and shying away from touch.This was not my guy, it was obvious he was in serious medical distress.
At the vet
I was expecting the doctor to tell me he popped a leg out of joint, or maybe he had sprained his knee. I anticipated an x-ray or two, and thought I’d be sent home with some doggy anti-inflammatory. Instead the doctor said, “You need to go to the ER right now. I’m not a neurologist, this dog may have ruptured a disc and he need an MRI ASAP.”
FUUUUUCK. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I immediately got in my car and drove the longest, saddest 4 miles of my life from Society Hill to University City, certain I had just killed my dog.
At the ER
During the least expensive trip to the UPenn Vet ER EVER (I believe I came out under 100 dollars) Clarence was diagnosed with a degenerative disc disease. His spine was inflamed, but nothing had ruptured.
The doctor told me that this type of injury would have eventually happened without my “help” and with 6 to 8 weeks crate rest Clarence would fully recover.
HOWEVER (doom music) part of having a dog with a disc disease is managing their physical activity closely. Which means by doctor’s orders, that Clarence is absolutely in NO way EVER supposed to do the following completely typical DOG things:
jump on couches or down from couches
walk up steps, down steps
jump into cars, out of cars
play rough with other dogs
run
The new normal
In a month and a half, my guy was back on his feet and out of the crate!
My husband and I, in the mean time, organized our lives around his new disability. I came home from work at noon every day to let him outside, we carried him him up and down the steps, blocked off the couch with pillows when we were not home, and we made sure to walk him and Gumbo separately to have more control over harry dog interactions that might cause him to exert himself too much physically.
We were golden! Stress over.
Until July.
Add “window dogs” to the list of things that make Clarence react like a maniac.
To be continued…
