Awful serendipity

This morning I was reading Holly's blog.  She was talking about weeding through her notebooks and finding entries about Louie, written before she knew he was dying.  It was a place to vent about the irritating facets of elderly-dog ownership.  I started to write a comment about how I NEVER find Carbon irritating, even when she pees on the rug;  but I was running off to work and didn't have time to figure out how to post non-anonymously.

I actually almost didn't go in to work.  The sub line calls at 5:50 am, and I just don't function well at that hour.

He brings me my phone:

"You have a sub job, Sparky."

It woke him up too.

Plus, it was way out in St John's.  That's a lot of driving for a 4-hour gig.  So I waited, hoping that someone else would pick it up before the call cycle got back to me.  Vain hope.

Normally Carbon and I walk Holly part way to work on Wednesdays, so I send her a quick Mea Culpa message.  Then D says, "I'd like to walk with her."  An Addendum message goes out.  I make some coffee, have some home-made granola, wake D up (again), and I'm out the door.

An hour later, I'm feeling kinda smug, because it's my 4th gig, 2nd time at this school.  I know the players, my passwords all work, and I'm actually a little bored.  Then D calls:  he's at the vet with Carbon.  Apparently, after the walk with Holly he walked over to New Seasons on Division, and Carbon collapsed in the street.  She lay down, frothing at the mouth and panting heavily.  

Bus drivers apparently won't pick up men with sick pet dogs, even when the foam has been wiped away.  Taxi drivers are also not very responsive.  But sisters, thank god, do not have these flaws.

D is in the waiting room, and he's mainly calling to see about payments:  it's a $560 estimate just going in the door.  Oy.

A second call, letting me know the diagnoses, or rather the lack thereof.   They are still doing some tests and x-rays to rule out heart or other conditions, but they have no idea why she was foaming at the mouth.  They think the panting, and probably the collapse, is from a condition called laryngeal paralysis.  Surgery is over $2K, is very invasive, and can be fatal.  Three excellent reasons to not even consider it.  

The heavy breathing has actually become a Carbon leit motif in the last few months.  Normally she breathes heavily when she's excited or over-heated, but now she pants just sitting and watching us.  We thought she had asthma.  That would actually be preferable, I think.  This condition is harder to treat: they recommend no exercise, lots of water, keeping her out of the heat. 

Problem number 1:   She loves to walk.  When Holly comes in, she goes into her Lipizzaner stallion imitation, curvetting and leaping and running back and forth between us and putting her head between my hands and my shoe laces.  She manages to extend her docked tail into an energetic wag. She leaps out the door and promptly sits for the leash, looking up with an endearing mix of expectation and adoration.  I may need to have Holly wait at the gate from now on.  In Carbon's eyes, Holly = walk.

Problem number 2:  The more water she drinks the more she has to pee.  The more she has to pee, the more likely she is to revert to peeing in the house.  The more she pees in the house, the more I time and money I have to spend on cleaning.  And the more she's likely to think it's okay to pee in the house (nota bene:  it's not.)

Problem number 3:  When it's summer, I want to lie in my hammock.  When I'm lying in the hammock, she wants to be outside with me.  When she's outside, she wants to sit in the sun.  Maybe her old arthritic bones like the heat?  Anyway, she likes to be overheated, and she does not like to swim or get wet.

So now I'm fretting over the difficulties of keeping her comfortable and well.  I'm not irritated, but Holly's blog is starting to resonate.

We took advantage of the visit to have the vet look at her mouth:  one side has had a red sore for over a year.  Last year at this time, they took a biopsy while they did dental work, but I said I didn't want to spend $250 to find out if she has cancer.  (I know that makes me a bad pet owner.)  Today they didn't push the biopsy:  they think it might be bacterial and sent home some ointment and antibiotics.

So now she's home, happy as always, sleeping with her Dad while I work.  And I just hope this is not the beginning of the downhill slide.  Yes, she's old and her muzzle has gone from grey to almost pure white.  But she is too adorable and loving, and I have enough trauma and expenses for now, thank you very much.  She's just going to have to hang on.

It's always something.

Old dogs like to frighten us...

We both need a hug.