After lunch with Ryan, we headed towards home. Stopping at the library and the park. Grandma called to say she was close to our house so I packed the kids in the van and headed home. When we got home, there was, shall we say a slight odor. Sure enough, there was a mess in the kitchen and I had no idea which dog did it. I guessed it was Finch because of the gurgliness (yes, I am making it a word) of his stomach. I opened up the windows and turned on the attic fan to suck the stench out and prepared to clean it up. Just then, Grandma rolled up. I yelled out the door what I was doing (so she wouldn't think I was rude for not greeting her at the door).
We all kept an eye on both dogs for the remainder of the night. Around 8:45, my mom said, "Do you hear that sound?" Ryan muted the Olympics and I pinpointed the sound. It was Buster, and he was puking upstairs. I made Ryan clean it up- hey, I have cleaned up MORE than my share of diarrhea and vomit this summer. I made the decision to dose the dogs again with Immodium again, and shortly after Buster vomited again right at Ryan's feet (but not on them), and up came the Immodium. I knew that Buster would not be sleeping in our bedroom that night. I prepared to sleep on the uncarpeted floor of our house so that I could let him out or clean up vomit as needed. Ryan told me to just baby gate him downstairs and sleep in our bedroom and we would clean up whatever mess in the morning. That didn't sit well with me. I had a bad feeling that something bad was wrong with Buster.
I sat on the couch reading and at 9:30 Buster got up and headed towards the patio door. I wasn't fast enough. He went into the kitchen and when I got in there, I was horrified with what I saw. There was blood everywhere, and it was still coming out of him. I got him outside as fast as I could. My mom heard us and came upstairs, "Is that blood? Oh my gosh!" She helped me clean it up. Then, I went upstairs, got re-dressed, woke Ryan up and told him what had just happened and told him I was taking Buster to the emergency vet. I got Buster into the van, and drove like a crazed woman to the vet, praying Buster didn't have any more explosive bleeding in the van, because I didn't want to have to clean it up (yes, I know, selfish of me).
We got to the ER vet, which coincidently was our normal vet as well. I had called ahead and they had our file pulled already. We had 2 people in front of us at 10 PM. Buster climbed up onto the bench next to me and curled into a little ball. Then, all of a sudden he got up. I knew what was coming, but there was no time to get him outside. His back end exploded with blood all over the floor, worse than what had happened at our house. He looked at me embarrassed and then climbed back up onto the bench. The lady waiting to be seen with her dog in front of us approached the desk with a horrified look on her face and said, "Please, let them go in front of us. Buster is in worse shape than my dog." They immediately took Buster into a room, as I thanked the lady for letting us go in front of her- I never got her name.
When the vet came in, I told her about what had been going on with Buster. She took him in back to do some blood work and an x-ray. I was left to wait and text. At this point it was well past 11 o'clock. I was very tired and trying to stay awake. I was the only person left at the vet- the lady who had let us go first had had her dog admitted already- I had spoken to her but still forgotten to get her name. A little after 11:30ish, the vet came back out. Buster had had 3 more bloody explosions in the back, which had made it take longer. They were going to admit him for the night. He was dehydrated and they suspected he had gastroenteritis or pancreatitis, both of which can be fatal if they go untreated. I thanked her and paid the gigantic vet bill (if this had happened during the day, it would have been cheaper, but what can you do?) and drove home. It was midnight when I pulled into the driveway.
On Tuesday, Finchy continued to refuse to eat. We assumed it was because he was worried about Buster- he did the same thing when Chili had his amputation, and he went on an eating strike for a week when Chili Dawg crossed the bridge. Then the nasty gas started. Boxers are nortorious for having gas, but this was worse than usual. Then, he began to exile himself from us, which is very odd, as Boxers are family dogs and Finchy is no exception. When Ryan picked Buster up that evening, he spoke to the vet about Finch as well, and she gave him some instructions and suggestions for Finchy as well.
When Buster came into the house, you could see that he felt better, just by looking at his eyes. Finchy was happy that he came home, and for a little bit, we had hoped that Finchy had just been worried. Then he went and exiled himself again for the remainder of the night.
This morning Buster ate his special food with his medicine hidden in it. Finchy refused his medicine. I had to use my mom's sneak attack technique. Then, I went upstairs and found vomit with blood in it. I knew it was Finchy. Back to the vet we went. We saw the same vet that had discharged Buster. Finchy's treatment was similar to Buster's except he wasn't as dehydrated as Buster, so they were able to rehydrate him subcutaneously while we were there. They also gave him an anti-vomit shot (yay! I am so sick of cleaning up diarrhea and vomit this week!). Finchy was sent home with the same meds as Buster, plus an additional one, as well as the same special food as Buster. His visit was also way cheaper than Buster's because it happened during the day (thank you, Finchy).
All I can say is, apparently the dogs found out that this is my last week of summer before school starts and they wanted to make it memorable. I am exhausted! I took this picture of them today, and while they don't look super happy (a dog person would know what I mean) they don't look as pathetic as they did before.
|Starting to feel better...|