Friday, December 21, 2007

I hate animals

They suck you in with their cuteness and fun and love and then they just die on you and break your heart. Every. Goddamn. Time. I can't take it.

My little Markie dog is in renal failure. This is not a reversible condition, as most people probably know; you can't grow new nephrons. A couple of weeks ago I took her to the vet because I feared the smell of her breath meant her kidneys were failing. (Don't ask me how I know that because I honestly have no idea.) He took blood and ran the lab work and...yeah. Terrible numbers. Like, Tony Romo when there's a blond in the stands kind of terrible.

He gave me two options: Leave her at the vet for 4 days so he can flush her kidneys with IV fluids and try to eliminate some of the built-up toxins or take her home and wait for her to die. But...with her being so old (15 years) and with the Romo numbers and all, the doctor cautioned that the flushing might not even be successful.

What could I do, though? This is my DOG, for chrissake. It's not her fault she got old and sick.

A cool $500 later (Merry Christmas!) I picked her up from the vet, fully flushed and reeking of urine and so weak she could hardly stand. I thought she was dead for sure. And then...she started getting better. Here she is a few days ago:

It's seriously hard for me to even believe; I never thought to see her so steady again. Believe me, I know this is merely a stopgap. She takes so many meds now that I got her one of those plastic days-of-the-week pill cases. She gets nauseous in the mornings and it scares me because I know that when she's so uremic that she can't stop vomiting I'll have to euthanize her. For now, though, I'm going to try to make the most of her feeling better while it lasts. She has to sleep in a cage at night because she's quite blind and if I let her wander at will she gets stuck under furniture and hurts herself, so I get up at 5 am to take her out. Actually, because I am an obsessive neurotic worrier, I wake up many times in the night and check her with a flashlight to make sure she's sleeping comfortably.

I don't begrudge her my crusty eyes and light(er) wallet, though; she's my dog. Right?

Older Markie shots:



2006, after surgery to remove an ingrown nail


At 6:59 AM, Blogger CrankyProf said...

Oh, Shell. I am so, so sorry. You have all my sympathy.

Hugs for you.

At 9:12 AM, Blogger Shell said...

Thanks, cranky. It'll be OK. I've been wearing my glasses instead of my contacts because I cry sometimes. You know how it is. We deal.

I don't hit the blogs as much lately, but I check you every now and then to make sure you and the fam are well. Merry Christmas!

At 2:44 PM, Blogger StickyKeys said...

Aww Shell, so sorry about your pups. I can't have animals for that exact reason. The place I'm staying now has the most gorgeous golden lab and his big eyes and he kills me everytime I leave and he wimpers. I can't imagine having one for years at a time. Poor baby, hope she continues to get better, though I'm sure she's led a really nice life thanks to you ;)

At 10:20 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Shelley -- I'm sorry about Markie. I remember her when you first got her, pooping all over your floor. Also climbing trees after squirrels. I still think I see Bobo and Marge sometimes. I miss them, but I also have warm memories of them. Markie will always be a part of you.


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