11 October 2014 (Saturday) - Still Poorly

The night shift had taken its toll, and I slept like a log; finally waking shortly after 8am. I came down to find my dog in his basket. He was still shivering and when he saw me he started crying. I offerd him some milk; he had a little. I sent him outside for a tiddle; he went slowly. I phoned the vets and got an appointment for 9.45am. Fudge clearly wanted to walk when he saw his collar and lead, but he walked oh-so-slowly. When I tried to hurry him (as he dawdled across the zebra crossing) he cried.

We didn't have long to wait at the vets. If anyone saw me blubbing in the waitng area as I cuddled my dog they didn't say anything. We saw a young girl vet who looked young enough to be my daughter. She was excellent - she gave "Furry Face ^TM" a good once-over. He seemed OK, but for the shivering and panting. But the vet soon found that he whimpered whenever she manipulated his mid-back; just at the base of his ribs. It's apparently quite common that longer dogs get bad backs in that region. My dog's got a bad back. Just like his Grandad. It all fits now. It's been a while since he jumped up onto our bed at night. He whinges for cuddles but struggles to jump up onto my lap. He won't jump over stiles when we are walking any more. He *really* has trouble getting into the car.

The vet gave him a shot of anti-inflammatory drugs and a shot of morphine to releive the pain. We have some stuff to give him after meals, and he has a follow-up appointment booked on Wednesday. As we came out of the vets I could see torrential rain so I carried my little dog home. Once home I towelled him off and he ate his brekkie (which was a good sign), curled up in his basket and was soon snoring like a train.

I sat on the sofa and blubbed. Did I ever mention that I never wanted a dog?

We left the little pup snoring as we set off to the monthly meet-up of the county's tupperware hunters. My initial plan was a flying visit to the meet and then to actually go hunting tupperware with anyone who was up for a hunt. But the weather was against us. The day's weather was very deceptive; glorious sunshine was always followed (within five minutes) by torrential rain. So instead we stayed inside and chatted with like-minded people. Talking tupperware hunting is always good, and I was really touched by the number of people who asked after my little dog.

I explained to young Harry that rather than politely selling raffle tickets he would make far more money by demanding money with menaces, and then having won a decent haul at his raffle we set off for home.

We did find one geocache on the way home, and we came home to find "Furry Face ^TM" was still under the weather. I say "under the weather"; I'm not convinced he wasn't still morphined. Mind you he wasn't too zoned out that he let me practice my saxophone; he had quite a howl when I started tooting.

"Furry Face ^TM" ate some of his tea; I opened a tin of sardines for him, and he ate half of the tin; specifically the half which I fed him by hand; piece by piece.

"er indoors ^TM" went off to film night, and I put on the telly. "Big Bang Theory" and "The Last Ship" made for good viewing. Whilst I watched telly I kept an eye on my little dog. He slept for much of the evening, but did have the occasional whinge.

I hope he gets better soon...