Puppy Love

This is a photo of Freckles at 9 weeks old. Notice she has freckles on her nose; hence her name.  Too bad those "freckles" were gone within the first month of her life and thus her name no longer really made sense.  Oh well!


For the record: I will never own another dog. 
Once these two move along (that being years and years away, I am MOST sure), we will not be getting another one. Although I adore dogs with all my heart and absolutely love having them, it is just too painful.

Go ahead and scoff.  Think what you will.  The wife is in total agreement with me: No.More.Dogs. Heck, we still have our two dogs and we're already talking about not having other dogs.  We just can't take it!  We'll dog sit.  We'll dog walk. We just won't dog own.

It is ridiculous how much I love these dogs. 

As you know and as I wrote in my last blog, Freckles has been sick.  I wasn't sure who looked worse--the wife or the dog--but, by Wednesday night, it was easy to say the dog looked a lot worse that the wife (and, that's saying a lot because the wife looked mighty bad).  I will spare you the details because they are very gross. Suffice it to say four days of little sleep and lots of obvious medical issues take a toll on both dog and owner.  Despite Freckles looking pathetic, I went to work yesterday morning with the plan of taking her back to the vet in the afternoon.
Here's Lucy at eight weeks old.  Humor me with the posting of dog photos. It's part of my self-therapy.  I'm feeling better already.


MJagger and I were on our way to lunch when I got a call from the wife on my cell phone.  When I answered, all I could hear was babbling, sobbing and incoherent, static-garbled words.  I couldn't understand her but I knew something was very, very wrong.  My first thought was that she had come home for lunch and found Freckles dead.  I then thought I heard her say something about an eyeball being on the floor (which, in retrospect is rather funny but not funny at all in the moment).  I then realized she was talking about piles of blood being all over the kitchen floor.  While MJagger, the lead-footed Speedy Gonzalez that she thankfully is, sped me home in record time, I called the vet and alerted them I'd be bringing Freckles right in.


I am here to say that the wife and MJagger saved Freckles life: the wife, because she came home just at the right time and MJagger because she got us to the vet in a ridiculously (and most decidedly illegal) short time.  Of course, I give a huge shout out to the vet, but that's her job, so she gets third billing in this saga.  (Props to St. Francis and my mother, who is in God's Favor.  Just sayin.')

It was awful.  I can't imagine what it was like for the wife to walk in to that scene.  The wife does not do well in certain situations and this would be an example of one of those situations. She is not a bodily fluids kind of girl.  While I wasn't as freaked out by the site as the wife was (it's a lot easier to not be freaked out when the element of surprised is removed), I was pretty sure Freckles had had her last hurrah.  I wrapped her in a towel and carried her to MJagger's car, then in to the vet. She did not squirm or try to move--she just leaned against me for the ride, bugger-filled eyes peeking out to take a gander at MJagger (of whom she loves most dearly).

I did not cry until they took her away. She disappeared behind the door, potentially never to be seen again.  I listened the best I could to the vet tech but seriously, all I was doing was trying not to cry.  They promised they will call me with news no matter what and encouraged me to call as needed.  I called the wife and alert her I was coming home without Freckles because they were keeping her.  God help me if I had forgotten to do that and walked up the sidewalk empty handed.


The poor wife!  Sleep deprived and in constant, high intensity pain, it was just too much.  In fact, that was a direct quote--it was all just too much. Who knew she loved our dogs that much? She is not a dog person.  I guess we will now say, "she didn't used to be a dog person," because she has proven that she most certainly is.
Poor Lucy couldn't figure out what the hell was going on.  You could just see her thinking, "Where's Freckles? Why is everyone crying? Why is there blood on the floor?" In order to get everyone's mind off of the emergency situation before us, I took the wife and Lucy to Sonic so we could eat something really bad for us and then we went to my place of work so Lucy (and, the wife, of course) could see some old friends.  You have to realize Freckles "grew up" at this place of work--they even threw her a puppy shower.  So, they understood our angst and fear on a more personal level than most.  They KNOW Freckles!

At 6:30 PM, the vet's office called and thus I had to decide if I wanted to bring the ol' Warrior Princess home for the night (and bring her back in the morning) or leave her at the vet's office. Bring her home?  A miracle must have occurred! She was still quite sick but would be able to leave if I wanted to bring her home. While the vet tech was talking to me, I heard Freckles barking in the background.  The vet tech laughed and said, "she's very demanding.  She's been barking at us.  I think she wants to get out of here!"

Was there even a question?  With port in arm and poop on her butt, I brought her home.

It was a long, sleep-limited but happy night.  I slept on the floor with her, Lucy at our side.  (I sent the wife to her own room, directing her to get some sleep so her pain would be less--she thankfully obliged without much fight). Although Freckles still looked quite miserable, I could tell she was beginning to perk up. 

At 1:00 AM, Freckles starting barking.  I jumped up and put my shoes on, thinking that she once again had to go outside.  But, I didn't see her standing at the door......confused, I looked around.  I found her standing in the kitchen..... 

....she was barking at the treat jar, demanding a treat, not barking to go outside.  She then drank some water.  You have no idea how exciting that was.  I gave her the treat.  Hell, I wanted to give her the whole jar of treats, but I remained rational.  Since we were already up and awake, I took her outside and stood in the rain. When we came back in, her majesty demanded another treat.  Thank you, St. Francis!


I do not know what today will bring but I'm feeling optimistic.  We'll go back to the vet and see what transpires.  We'll do laundry.  We'll wait for the wife to come home and then I 'll go to work for awhile. We'll take it one treat at a time. 

In other words: we'll love our dogs with a ridiculous amount of love and be "those dog people" other people make fun of....and, THAT will be the perfect way to spend this day.  One treat at a time, one treat at a time.
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