Bean decided that his back left foot was going to be his new chew toy. We aren't sure if this was all due to allergies, or if it was nervousness, or what. This was a little before Whicket fully moved into our humble abode, so it wasn't related to his acquisition other then maybe a premonition of what was to come. So upon taking him to the vet it was a pretty simple solution, anti-inflammatory, a slight narcotic and a little bit of extra love and he was good to go. Oh. And a GIANT goofy looking cone. Problem one of June, check.
Whicket is sort of old. When I say sort of, I mean if he was in 'human' years he would be 105 years old. So he's ancient. He's practically dead dog walking, yet he has a ton of life left him... in short spurts. In one of those short spurts I was taking him outside. He was hoppy-hopping along out the back door, turns around to make sure I am coming and continues hopping along. The problem was the last 'hop' he happened to plummet about 5 feet face first into another set of concert steps because rather then hopping down the stairs outside he decided he wanted to go into the cellar instead. I quickly run after him and see if he's dead. He's not, in fact he's just limping a little bit. I think to myself "well, he's a man (dog) and I'm a man (boy-man, but sort of manish right?) I wouldn't go the doctor for this, why should he?" Crisis averted.
Until the next day when it's just as bad...actually it seems worse. He wouldn't walk on his paw at all. Now I had two tri-pods running around. One back foot, and one front foot. Just great. Now Jayme to the rescue (thankfully) and takes him (Whicket not Bean or me though I probably could have used one of Beans narcotics about this time. Bean is still treating but doing just fine) to the vet who, by the way, is one of the best vets I think exists in the world (I'll get to that). The vet gives him a relative clean bill of health, not broken. Take two aspirin and some pain killers and call me a week. Sweet deal, I can do that. Crisis re-averted.
That's until we find out that Whicket. Hates. Everything. Especially medicine. While giving him this medicine Whicket refuses to eat, but I continue to give it to him because is still limping after a few days rest. I shove his medicine down his throat even though he bit me multiple times. Heartbroken we try to feed him anything, ham, chicken, wet food, dry food. Nothing. At this point I thought for sure Whicket had given up. That he hurt his foot, missed his dad and said "I'm done, I'll just crawl off, lay down and pass away". I felt awful. I told my friend I would care for his dog and I killed him on day three. Sheesh oh man! So we call the vet tell him that he's not eating and not getting any better. Come to find out that Whicket has lost a pound (keep in mind he only weighs 6 pounds that would be like a 120 pound person losing 20 pounds in a week). They want to due x-rays on the leg (that by now I'm am 100% sure is broken). I irritatedly say yes because I don't want to spend ANOTHER 100+ dollars on a dog that I am sure is just going to die but we needed to find out for sure. Crisis in full force.
Meanwhile on the Bean camp, Bean decided to eat an ENTIRE bag of dog vitamins that I had just bought since Whicket wasn't eating (makes sense right, something that will nourish him, tastes good and is easy to eat? Ya minus the fact that Whicket didn't eat one). We call doggie poison control... off to the vet hospital we go (because it's Sunday of course) to induce vomiting. After yet another 100+ dog bill, we get some stomach medicine and orders to not let Bean eat again ever (or just one day, to him it might as well be the same thing). Check. Crisis continues.
Well we get a call from the vet and come to find out... Whicket's fine. Not only that but the vet ONLY charged us for the x-rays and not the consult or the morphine or the extra stomach meds. While it was still an expensive venture to find that out... it could have been much worse. (He also doesn't even charge us for the follow up appointment a week later..!) Crisis level Orange.
Now we just have a grumpy Whicket with a sprained leg and probably starving because his medicine kills his stomach. Commence force feeding frenzy (like me eating pizza on a Friday night). I feed him anything now that I think he might life. Chicken, ham, and anything else that you can think of that dogs like to eat. After feeding him for a week ....with a fork.... he gains back about a pound and is now running all over the place. He's still grumpy and annoyed at the world... and eating off a work...., but running sometimes and waking up enough to pee on the carpet and tick me right off. Crisis finally mostly over.
So that is a very quick summary or just part of what has happened in June. That doesn't include the bunnies that moved into our back yard and had baby bunnies so Bean cannot play out back without trying to eat them (bunny screams are literally the worse sound in the world), or the mouse that moved into my kitchen that I have mouse traps all over for. Aside from those couple of things June has been a fairly easy month!
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