I'm sorry I've been silent this past week, but I just haven't been able to muster the energy to post anything.
My little dog Molly---the one I named my blog address after---is dying, and I'm just heartbroken.
Last summer she started limping. She was getting arthritis in her back legs and spine. It's not really common in Yorkies---but is something that many wiener dogs get as they age. The vet prescribed a round of steroids and they fixed her up just fine for awhile. We had to taper them off to every other day because she has an enlarged heart.
During the last month or so, she stopped eating every other day, corresponding to the times we gave her steroids (they make you hungry). We tried everything---different kinds of canned food with caloric supplements, etc, but she turned her nose up at everything. We started hand-feeding her chicken and turkey a few times a day on the off days---but that only lasted awhile. She completely gave up dog food, and only let us hand feed her sporadically.
A couple of weeks ago we noticed that she had gone completely silent. Always a very verbal dog (whining, yapping, brrrring), it was very disturbing, to say the least. She was still running around--albeit very stiffly--and getting in the middle of everything, but not a peep out of her.
Last week I noticed that her right hind leg wasn't holding her weight and curving underneath her body. She was still getting around, but falling down once in awhile. She didn't seem to be in any pain, and was still eating, so I made a vet appointment, but couldn't get her in for a week.
Hubby was out of town last week for a few days. Molly stopped eating, although she was drinking some water. I tried to hand-feed her---first bits of chicken and turkey, and finally macaroni and cheese. Her tongue kept frantically licking it, and I realized that she couldn't open her mouth. I called the vet and they were able to see her on an emergency basis.
Bottom line---not only has the arthritis progressed rapidly in her spine and back legs, but her right hip won't stay in its socket. She seems to have neurological problems---her reflexes weren't working. I guess on the plus side---she's not feeling any pain because of those neurological problems. The vet thoroughly manipulated that hip and not a flinch or a peep out of her. She just lay passively, unable to get up.
I sobbed through the entire visit, because I knew what the vet would say. With all of the issues, she recommended euthanasia.
I begged the vet to tell me I could take her home, since she wasn't in any pain, just until Hubby could get home and be there. He would be devastated if he couldn't say goodbye, and I needed him to be with me when we put her to sleep. She told me that she didn't think Molly would make it through another couple of days, but doubled her steroid dose and gave me some pain medication with vitamins.
Right after I brought her home, I called Hubby on his cell and left him a message. Don't call me on the road, call me when you make a stop. Of course he called me right away and demanded that I tell him everything. He cried like a baby (gotta love a tender man).
About 10 minutes after I got off the phone, Molly came out of her carrier and started running around. No kidding. She went in the kitchen and pushed her bowl around, like "Hey! Where in the hell is my dinner?"
She still couldn't manipulate her jaw, so my good friend who's staying with us and I were able to feed her baby food with a syringe. Molly just ate it up. And after the double dose of steroids and the pain meds, she's been making her rounds through the house with hardly a hitch in her giddyup, although she's been running into walls and stuff head-first.
Hubby made it home in time. Molly's been somewhat peppy, interacting with the other dogs and us. We've been feeding her every three hours around the clock. It's hard to contemplate putting her down when she seems to have rallied a bit.
She definitely has neurological issues, and this isn't a cure. We don't want her to suffer. So in the next couple of days, we're going to take her to the vet and put her to sleep. My little puppy.
This morning at about 3am, I was holding her in my arms and telling her how much I loved her and how I was going to miss her. She turned her little face to me and gave me one single yap. Later in the day when Big Kid and Kitty came for Sunday dinner, the kid was holding her and she did the same thing with him.
You brought so much joy to my life, Little Girl. Gonna miss you something fierce.
Ever have one of those days where you just embarrass yourself over and over? In my neck of the woods, acting stupid and embarrassing yourself is called "Showing Your Ass".
I've been busier than busy this last week---a dear friend is arriving this weekend to spend some time with us, so we've been picking the place up and getting a room ready for her. The craft studio is facing our busiest time of year---we've got shows to show up for, merchandise to sort, orders to fill, etc. Next week, weather permitting, we're having a mini-family reunion. Relatives from Australia, Maryland and other states will be here, and my mom has arranged that we all have lunch at my house. LOL
So yesterday at about 3:30am, I woke up with a major squawk.
I forgot my mom's birthday. Totally freaking forgot it.
It wasn't a few days ago---it was TWO WEEKS AGO!
Gah!
Now I'd spoken to her at least twice in the meantime, and she never said a word. WTF was up with that?
Gah!
As soon as the florist opened, I ordered a big honking bouquet and signed it "much love from your bad, forgetful daughter".
She called me a couple of hours later, overwhelmed by the truckload of blooms that were wheeled into her house. I apologized over and over.
Then she made an admission. She didn't say anything in our conversations about my forgetting her birthday, simply because she knew that I'd NEVER forget her birthday, and was afraid that I'd sent a bouquet, and the card the florist might have left in the screen door had blown away.
Because she'd been spending the majority of her days and nights at her 86-year-old beau's house and wasn't home. Snarf.
She was waiting for me to say, "did you like my flowers?", whereas she wasn't going to come out and admit that she "lost" them outright. Hahahahaha!
Between the time of ordering the flowers and getting the call from my mom, I showed my ass again in a really big way (when it rains, it pours).
Since Big Kid's illness, he calls me a lot during the day. Sometimes he calls 16 times a day. He has a compulsive disorder and an anxiety disorder, so frequently he has to call me when something freaks him out and he needs to get calmed and grounded. Sometimes he has to call me because he has to tell me something utterly trivial (he got to level 10 on some game). Needless to say, it's very disruptive when I'm trying to work.
We've been working with his cognitive therapist to cut down the calling times. Big Kid made a deal with Hubby---Hubby bought him a new computer system with the proviso that he'd cut his calls down to 2 a day unless there was a spurting stump involved.
So he's been making his 2 calls a day. Or what he surmises is his 2 calls a day. If I don't answer immediately, he won't leave a message. He'll just call six more times in a row, over and over and that counts as "one" call. As if I'll suddenly materialize to answer the phone, since I haven't the first 5 times.
We've been joking that there's some kind of psychic connection because he always calls at the most inconvenient moment.
Like when I'm pooping. Or taking a bath. Or when I'm pooping. Or running up to the top of the road to get the mail. Or when I'm pooping. Or when Hubby and I have a child-free moment and are making the most of it. Or when I'm pooping. Since I actually only poop about once a day (I KNOW!! TMI!!!), it's amazing that he can specifically target this time to call me, since it varies.
All day long I'm home and near the phone, but never a call from anybody unless I'm tied up with the above. Usually pooping. I don't take the phone into the bathroom with me because, well...that would be gross.
Yesterday, after I called in Mom's bouquet, I was um---visiting the facilities when the phone rang. It rang 4 times, and then hung up when the machine picked up. Then rang again. Oh bother.
I hurried the best I could, but couldn't make it to the phone in time. Nothing like the anxiety of an incessantly ringing phone to make it all crawl back up there. The caller hung up instead of leaving a message. Then the phone rang again. I looked at who was calling and it said "646" which is the first three digits of Big Kid's new phone number (due to his recent obsession with cell phones, the number changes every few weeks).
Exasperated, I pushed the "answer" button and bellowed, "How come the only time you call me is when I'm in the middle of taking a big huge crap?"!!!!
The voice on the other end of the line: Hello?
Me: Big Kid?
Other Guy: Uh, no, this is Erik, Little Guy's van driver. Who's this?
Me: I'm afraid to tell you.
Oy. Yes, it was embarrassing. Yes, I think Erik was wondering if he should actually RETURN Little Guy to the crazy woman with a potty mouth.
What a day! Even my ass is blushing.
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Thank you to everybody who responded to my Pantry Challenge. I'll get everything up sometime next week!
