Poor Bongo. Our 'first born' has been usurped by a writhing, cooing, crying maniac who doesn't know HALF as many tricks as he does.
Bongo: I mean, does he roll over?
Us: Uh, Not yet. But he's close!
Bongo: Can he shake? Fetch? Sneeze on command? No, he cannot. Let me tell you what people, he's a whiner, he smells like trouble and I don't like him.
Us: Dude, it's going to get better, trust us. Can you please wait to see before you manifest another terrible malady?
Because our little baby dog is rather intense, a super genius of sorts. No, he's really special. A dog sitter we hired told us so.
And he's got our attention again for the 4th time since the boy's arrival with another vet-worthy puppy problem. It's called a Corneal Ulcer and he's got in his left eye now. Six weeks ago, it was his right eye. Now I'm about to go a little oovey-groovey on you - get ready, get used to it, but my belief system is that we create or manifest physical issues to help learn a lesson or show us what needs to be healed psychologically. And this is a little obvious here - but. He doesn't want to see this baby anymore!
I found this great explanation of what I'm saying here. Basically it's pretty simple. His new life is not NEARLY as much fun as the six years that he got with us where he was the biggest priority in our lives just below breathing and well above the occasional laundry load. I mean, that dog was the apple of our eye, the screensaver of our laptops, the opening picture of our iPhones. Truly the star of the show and I've got 14,000 photos to prove it. Daily hikes, 'spensive daycare - you name it...he was living the doggie dream.
Well I don't have to tell you what happened next but I'll do it anyway because there are a few surprise twists. Let's do it in bullet form because it more officious looking:
*Continuing to reveal the oovey side of myself I will tell you that we planned a home birth
* I will also share that we did not achieve a home birth
* After 40 hours of labor at home we moved to a hospital in a calm flurry but a shitstorm nonetheless and the poor brown dog who had just witnessed one of his favorite folks on the planet suffering and throwing up endlessly - was left behind. Sure our friend was on the phone to the boyfriend to get him over there to take care little Bongo but. You know. He was totally left behind.
*Ooops, back to the list. In the excitement of 16 more hours of labor (count 'em! 56!) and the unwelcome transfer of the new guy to the NICU, we didn't realize that our dog help wasn't actually staying at the house - the boyfriend was generously going to feed/water/walk/play but not staying at night.
*Gasp! This dog has never spent a night alone and now he's alone for two nights after these traumatic events. Once we got wind of what occurred we asked he be carted over to the 'spensive boarding spot which is where he spent his final night away.
What happens next still haunts me.
When we picked him up from the doggie spa with our new bundle of magic in the car, we couldn't wait to introduce them. But our sweet dog walked out of this favorite place of his with a limp tail. As if it was broken. Once we got home and got a closer look at him, it appeared he had some kind of back hip problem. Essentially his back-end looked frozen and his walk was a bit of a Frankenstein affair. Let's admire for a moment what his tail usually looks like:
So when I saw this dragging line of fur dangling from his butt I immediately suspected foul play. I made a call.Me: Uh, um, hi. You've done something to my dog?
Nice Lady: How do you mean?
Me: Well, his tail is broken.
Nice Lady: Well, he was perfectly happy here.
Me: Harumph, did he get in a fight?
Nice Lady: No, not at all.
Me: (approaching hysteria) Well, why is he broken?
(cue newborn screams in background)
Nice Lady: You know we love Bongo here, please let us know if there's anything we can do..
Me: Um, okay (tears flowing, tiny voice). I'll call back if it isn't better tomorrow.
Because after a traumatic birth and two nights in the NICU what I really wanted to do is come home to find that my other family member that I love almost as much as the cute husband is suffering terribly and it's our fault. Looking at that drooping tail that was an exclamation mark of how heartbending, exhausting and overwhelming the last 6 days had been, I wanted to sink into any local handy abyss.
So it lifted after about four days, the tail I mean. And we thought, whew - he's back! But then a week later he developed the cornea ulcer in his right eye. Which took about five weeks to diagnose, until we finally went to the a doggie ophthalmologist. Sound expensive? It was. But thankfully the procedure was successful and he was back in business after wearing the cone of shame for two weeks.
And this afternoon, he started squinting at us again - this time with the other eye.
To which I say:
Seriously? Can we have a little break in the action please?
Poor brown dog.
Our first born, Bernie, a doxie mix, has terminal lymphoma. He's in remission right now and may have a couple of years left, but his check has been signed. So when our second born, a human, came along in January it was a struggle to balance their needs. It's tough dragging a newborn human to the vet, but we know we've got to give Bernie our all since he doesn't have forever left. Fortunately they get along well, but it's still a struggle to keep our puppy prince happy and well tended to as he goes through chemotherapy.
ReplyDeleteOh JJ, girl that sucks. I too have tried to keep the bongo boy loved and entertained but as you know the new boy is very distracting and adorable and gets an unreasonable amount of kisses. We do try to balance and you said it, it's a struggle. I hope your puppy stays here and stays well for as long as possible.
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