I said somewhere publicly that I would post this story on Thursday, but as you see, I have not. So here it is.
As you know, I am sick in the bed--or I was. Especially on Thursday. After the doctored threatened me this week, I mostly stayed in bed and it did help. I worked a couple of hours to get something done on Wednesday, then back to bed. On Thursday morning, Simba woke me up at 11 am, to let her out to go to the bathroom.
To get to the back door, I have to go down the hall past the orange guest room, where I sometimes sleep with Tazer. He had gone out in the middle of the night and not come back, so I was very confused to see that his door was open and he was laying in bed. I would NEVER do that, for two reasons--I cannot trust him to have free rein of the house, as he steals food, and it would be too much of a chance that he would run into the other dogs and a fight might break out. I rushed Simba out the door and came back to see just what the deal was.
He was laying at the foot of the bed, in a not strange place for him--he stretched when I woke him, but was not otherwise strange. That is, other than the huge pool of blood by his head. I could find nothing wrong with him, but this was not a little bit of blood--this was so much blood it had run through the comforter, and the sheets and down to the mattress pad. It was fresh enough to still be bright red, and was a touch diluted.
I talked myself down from a come apart, which was not that hard, as I had been asleep for almost a day and was still a little confused. I knew that was not right, but I was still stuck on wondering how he got there in the first place.
I went to the bathroom, and the first thing I saw was drops of blood between his room and the toilet. Tazer is obsessed with water, and he drinks out of the toilet--they all do, as it is the only bowl a 150 pound dog cannot regularly turn over if it suits him. He drinks it dry. That morning, there was just an inch or so of water in it, and it was dark red--like whole blood.
Now I was freaking out. This is not normal. I rushed back to look at him again, to see what the hell was going on. Still he was in bed, and still kind of snoozing, with no obvious problems.
Hmm, I say to myself--WTF? Is there a crazy dog hurter in my house making my puppy bleed? Is he laying there because he was dying or is he just sleepy? How come I could not find anything wrong with him?
I started tracing the steps that would have led him to this bedroom without authorization. Barry quite often does not actually shut the door all the way, so a dog or Peeg can push it open, but he was not home. That gave me an idea though, so I went to the front door, and sure enough it was standing open about 18 inches. I must have not secured it when I let Tazer out in the night. I did notice that the bottled water man had been there already and left water on the porch....but that did not really tell me anything, other than that it likely happened after he was there, so sometime after 6 am.
Back I went to check on Tazer again. Still in bed, not ready to get up. That is when I decided to check the kitchen. I will admit the house has been a bigger disaster than usual because of Christmas and me being sick--it was a mess. I had even cancelled the cleaning lady that day because I was home sick. There was some left over cake still in the pan--or there had been. Evidently Tazer had helped himself to it. That is not out of character for him at all. He also ate some left over pizza, and dragged things off the counter.
That is when I saw it--glass all over the kitchen floor, by the sink, along with blood everywhere (yeah I was that out of it, and the house that dirty that I did not notice blood on the floor until then). It took me forever to figure out what it was, but finally it dawned on me--he had gotten a jar of white salsa con queso (which sucked by the way), and thrown it in the floor. He must have licked it up, and cut the BeJeeezus out of his tongue.
That scared me even more. I cleaned it up and went to force him out of bed. He was not bleeding anymore. Obviously, the blood had come from his mouth, but also from his feet.
I was proud of myself for figuring out the big mystery, so I went to work for a few minutes to finish something. Not until I called Barry on the way to tell him about it did I think to worry that Tazer had eaten glass in the process.
ARGH! Something else to worry about.
As is to be expected, my work took way more than a couple of hours--I was there about four or so. When I got home, I held my breath all the way down the driveway, hoping Tazer would greet me as usual--and he did!
We have been on poop patrol ever since. He seems to be fine, although he did throw up a huge amount of food this afternoon--I hope it is not related. He has never done that before, at least not more than once.
After confirming he was still alive, I went to the farm to feed, because they have to be fed, even if I am sick and dying. When I started watering the middle pasture, I heard Marvin the Donkey making an absurd horrible gurgling/wheezy noise. He had gotten baling twine around his neck and tried to pop his head slap off.
So much for my resting huh? I had to get scissors to cut it off, which was the easy part. He still kept making horrible noises though, and I had to get him in the barn to see how bad it was and try to fix it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to drag an unwilling jackass through a herd of horses, in the slippery mud? Take my word for it, it ain't easy. It is particularly not easy when he is making horrid death rattle sounds. It was not a treat. I called the vet and held the phone in my teeth to await his return call while I fought with Marvin--and of course, dropped the phone in the slop. I got instructions, which were consistent with what I thought, and got Marvin and his daughter Miss Pixie, to a stall. He goes nowhere without her, so they both had to go. I needed to shave his neck where he had cut himself with the twine--shave my ass, so to speak--but of course, the clippers were missing. It was just a barrel of fun. His whole neck was really swollen, as was his head--he was one unhappy donkus.
Days like that, I wish I had never gotten out of bed.
As of today though, Donkey has quit making horrid noises, fights me over his antibiotics, and seems to be fine, but just with a big ouchie. Tazer may or may not have a blockage? No telling, but nothing to do but watch and wait at this stage. I think he is okay, but who knows.
So there you go--CSI Mt Vernon--just another day at Malfunction Junction.
Happy New year!
How come I fell in love with these teeny short, bow-legged, bat looking puppies? This is Moe, who I love like nobody's business. I do not know why, he does nothing. He is so laid -back, I call him Captain Quaalude in my head. He was perfectly content sitting in my purse. A whole shitty day can be fixed just by holding him and kissing his little mashed up face.
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