So my old pal Magnus was just here for the week. We played, we napped, we walked, we sniffed, we competed for lap time, and we sat nicely for our treats. All in all a good time was had by all.
We are very different, we look different, we like different things but one thing we both love is a good scrappy tug of war and PL's got the footage over in the Cinema Room
18.3.07
6.3.07
A Turn for the Worse
I returned from a visit with Maisie on Friday with a case of the pukes. OK maybe I shouldn't have been partaking of all the stray morsels that I found in their kitchen or the stale kibble that lurked in the corners of the laundry room. By Saturday I had puked four times, but that was just the beginning of my malaise.
On Sunday morning, the puking had subsided but a new symptom reared its ugly head. I peed maybe four times, the last time being just two drops. PL's face changed color, his breathing seemed to stop as he saw the two drops stain the gray pavement blood red. We hurried home where he scrambled for his phone and I hear my name, in full, Etienne, as he makes arrangements of some kind. We spend the day very quietly, for some reason, I don't feel inclined to do anything but lie unmoving on my bed.
On Monday morning I have a rather nasty discharge but my appetite has returned to normal. Shortly after breakfast we are, surprisingly, preparing to go out somewhere. There is something wrong with the trains. We go back out of the station and catch a cab to the place where we go once a year.
Its a strange place full of people and other dogs. Everyone seems very friendly, they seems to know who I am but I have a strange vibe about the place. I am usually put on a table and prodded and examined but it usually ends and we leave. Not this time. This time, just PL leaves. I go into the back where they keep giving me water to drink. There are are a few dogs back there. The energy is not good.
I am laid on my back, I struggle, they insert a needle into my bladder. They lay me on my back again in some kind of machine. I start to worry about where PL is. They are handling me again. I begin to notice the cold blue fluorescent lighting, the smell of institutional disinfectant and the worried barks of my caged neighbours. After what seems an eternity, I'm brought back out again and PL is there. Hallelujah. Its over we leave for home. I have my dinner and sleep, exhausted by the ordeal.
On Tuesday morning things actually seem a little better, my appetite has completely returned and I do my morning business without any variation. I gather that I had a sterile urine draw for a urinalysis and culture, an x ray, and a prepucial wash. We have to wait for the results. I am more myself and by the afternoon I surprise PL by dropping Jitterbug, my Zebra toy on his foot after giving it a good shake. He smiles. "You wanna play huh?" he says almost with relief.
On Sunday morning, the puking had subsided but a new symptom reared its ugly head. I peed maybe four times, the last time being just two drops. PL's face changed color, his breathing seemed to stop as he saw the two drops stain the gray pavement blood red. We hurried home where he scrambled for his phone and I hear my name, in full, Etienne, as he makes arrangements of some kind. We spend the day very quietly, for some reason, I don't feel inclined to do anything but lie unmoving on my bed.
On Monday morning I have a rather nasty discharge but my appetite has returned to normal. Shortly after breakfast we are, surprisingly, preparing to go out somewhere. There is something wrong with the trains. We go back out of the station and catch a cab to the place where we go once a year.
Its a strange place full of people and other dogs. Everyone seems very friendly, they seems to know who I am but I have a strange vibe about the place. I am usually put on a table and prodded and examined but it usually ends and we leave. Not this time. This time, just PL leaves. I go into the back where they keep giving me water to drink. There are are a few dogs back there. The energy is not good.
I am laid on my back, I struggle, they insert a needle into my bladder. They lay me on my back again in some kind of machine. I start to worry about where PL is. They are handling me again. I begin to notice the cold blue fluorescent lighting, the smell of institutional disinfectant and the worried barks of my caged neighbours. After what seems an eternity, I'm brought back out again and PL is there. Hallelujah. Its over we leave for home. I have my dinner and sleep, exhausted by the ordeal.
On Tuesday morning things actually seem a little better, my appetite has completely returned and I do my morning business without any variation. I gather that I had a sterile urine draw for a urinalysis and culture, an x ray, and a prepucial wash. We have to wait for the results. I am more myself and by the afternoon I surprise PL by dropping Jitterbug, my Zebra toy on his foot after giving it a good shake. He smiles. "You wanna play huh?" he says almost with relief.
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