| |
|
(NOTE- before anyone gets too worried that something really bad's happened and I'm going to turn into a miserable bastard again for years, this story DOES have a happy ending)
Scariest fucking thing happened last night. Sheena (my dog) has been suffering from an excess of cabin fever recently, due to being on heat and therefore not allowed to play with any of her friends in the park. On top of that, in her hyperactive bouncings around the house, she's managed to strain a muscle or something in one of her legs. So I went to the vet on Friday, who checked her out, said everything was fine, and gave me some painkillers for her which, he said, would be easy to administer because they were specially palatable ones that dogs like.
So yesterday I'm helping my friend move house, and as these things do, it took a lot longer than expected. I come home to find that, of all the things untouched on a fairly high shelf, the painkillers are missing (none of the other stuff on the shelf's been knocked over or anything- that was the clever part). Then I find the chewed-up bottle strewn across the floor.
Now I have no idea what the pills were, or even how many were in the bottle. So I'm totally freaking out. I phone my friend who's a receptionist at the vet's, to ask if she has any idea what medication he'd be likely to have given her, and what happens if you OD on it. She told me to watch for signs of lethargy (not too worrying at the time- Sheena was literally bouncing off the walls because I'd just walked in the door), foaming at the mouth, or any abnormal behaviour.
Abnormal behaviour? Pretty much everything puppies do seems fairly abnormal unless you're carefully following their thought processes, and even they can be fairly irrational.
So I'm thinking- right. What do you do when a human ODs? You keep them walking around, make sure they don't go under, all that stuff. So I take her for a walk, play energetically with her with her toys for an hour, take her out again, come back and play some more, and try not to start crying.
By about 12:30, I phone my friend again, who assures me that if anything really bad was going to happen, it would have happened by now, and all I should do now is keep an eye on her, and check her breathing every couple of hours throughout the night. And get her checked later for any long-term liver damage.
So I stay up a bit longer, then SUDDENLY she decides to go to sleep. I totally freak out, then realise that, well, it's about two in the morning and she's been playing constantly for the last three-and-a-half hours. That's likely not lethargy, it's (hopefully) just exhaustion.
I go to bed. Wake up every hour or so and check she's okay. Wake up this morning thoroughly exhausted, and take her out for a walk. She's absolutely fine.
Pop into the vet's to say thank you to my friend for her help, and also to apologise for ruining her Sunday evening. She's totally cool about it all, and then tells me she's checked Sheena's records, and that- get this- there were only ever five pills in the bottle. Given that she'd been having one a day, that meant she'd eaten three. And they were a very low dosage. "I wish I'd had access to these last night", she said, "so I could have just told you not to worry at all".
So that was an emotionally draining evening at the end of a physically exhausting day... but it all turned out okay in the end. Though the lesson I've learned is, lock up the prescription meds. Especially if you have pets named after Ramones songs. At least she wasn't sniffing glue.
Do anyone else's pets ever do just the weirdest things that are not only weird, but also way beyond what you believed them capable of?
(I admit, I'm actually hoping for a good parrot story from Lula at this point). |
|
|
