Saturday, January 03, 2009
Poor little guy, our Great Dane, The Boy. Not enough that he didn't have a really, really bad start due to the negligence of some f^(ktard in North Carolina, who didn't give a crap about the dogs in his possession that he mated. [The horrific story of The Boy's Father, Handsome, is here. Handsome and the beautiful Angel who rescued him, along with the "Mother" and puppies, is here.] The Boy weighed all of five pounds when we adopted him at eight-weeks-old; a Great Dane should weight between sixteen to twenty pounds at that age. It was sad. Very sad. And beyond me how someone - anyone - can treat ANY animal so barbarically and cruelly. I still cry over the whole ordeal. How it was that I ended up being in the right place at the right time to adopt one of the puppies is a story for another day.
The Boy has had "dust allergies" since we moved to The Sandbox. Great. Couldn't have grass allergies, or be allergic to peanuts. Nope. He's allergic to dust! We have the allergies under control - Benadryl. About eight months ago he injured a toenail. Yes. Toenail. We have had quite a time trying to clear the situation up and have tried about everything in order to get the infection under control. The vet says that if we can't clear the infection up after this course of antibiotics that The Boy is on - and will be on for three months - then the toe will need to be removed. I have no idea how he injured his toenail to begin with. I am thankful that I am always "hands all over The Kids all the time" that I even noticed the toe when it was pink - before it was red and swollen. [If I could just get him to stop licking his toe, it would be a big help. Easier said than done. Yes. We've done the Elizabethan collar. Yes. I've tied a knee-sock on it at night. The toe clears up and then it gets "annoyed" again, and we're back to infection.] According to the vet, four-legged-kids use their two middle toes for weight and balance so he tells me that The Boy won't even miss it. Okay. Fine. An amputated toe is the least of our concerns versus staph infection or something else equally horrible. Apparently that's not quite enough for The Boy to have to deal with. Allergies and a "bad toe."
I was hugging and petting The Boy and noticed a "lump" on his chest and, of course, immediately took him to the vet. Thinking the worst. After all, what can a "lump" possibly be or mean?!? It came as quite a surprise to find out that the "lump" and surrounding infection - edema - beneath his fur was from a bite. Not a bug bite, either. I'm blaming The Baby. I think I'm pretty sure when it happened, too. Trust me, if there would have been blood during the particular incident - we'd have been at the vet's office in minutes. There was no blood. I'll post on that later. It needs a photo-explanation. Anyway, since The Boy is already on antibiotics for his bad toe, the vet said, "Lets give it a few days, the swelling will go down, but let's check it out again in a week. It is a nice round, smooth lump. I don't think you have anything to worry about." Fine.
Today I took The Boy back to the vet. We've been there once a week since I returned to The Sandbox from the States. The Boy luvs his car rides! The disappointment that our car ride destination is to the vet is clearly evident as soon as we arrive. Poor little guy... I always go into the office to see how many other "four-legged-Kids" are in the waiting room before I bring The Boy in. Only one other "furry child" was there with her [his?] clearly Saudi parents this morning. [The woman was covered head-to-toe in black, the man with a red and white head covering and white thobe - brushing his teeth as he sat on the couch waiting.] Their "furry child" was a fluffy cream colored long-haired cat in a small carrying-crate. Both of them - and their "child" - were a bit taken back at the size of The Boy coming into the waiting room. Their "furry child" backed up in its little crate and started doing "the hissing thing." What none of the three of them understood is that The Boy is more afraid of them and to be there - at the vet's office - than they could possibly be afraid of him, The Boy.
Pitiful. It really is. This big, huge [but on the small side, for a Great Dane] four-legged-Kid, just trembling. Trembling! Tail down his butt and between his legs as tightly as possible. Ears back and flat to the head. Visibly shaking. Pulling me toward the door to leave the entire time we are there - whether in the waiting room or in one of the examining rooms. "Okay. We came. Said 'hello.' I'm ready to leave. Now!" Honestly, I'm afraid that if a "lump" that is benign, an infected toe that we can't get cleared up, and allergies don't do it, the poor little guy is going to have a heart attack. It is that bad - our trips to the vet. Nothing bad has ever happened to him - but for during his "infancy" - and The Boy's life has been nothing but the best we can possibly give him and more, since then. Love. Lots and lots and lots of love. Attention. As much as he wants - and probably more than he wants. Special food - which I either make or get from The Honest Kitchen. Toys. A crate with soft flannel cushions and side padding. The bed - or couches - to sleep on - his choice. Walks and play time. [Yeah. So, okay. Perhaps he didn't really want a Little Sister as much as I thought he would like having one, but, hey... Not all Kids can be an only child, right? And The Baby - as far as Little Sister's goes - is a good Little Sister. She adores him! She worships the ground he walks on! The bite? Yeah. I'll post on that.] Anything and everything for The Boy. Is he spoiled? Perhaps in the eyes of some. Not to me. You cannot spoil a child -two or four-legged - with too much love and attention. But the fear - the panic - that The Boy experiences and endures for a quick, five-minute follow-up visit at the vet's. Oh my gosh!!! A big baby. Really, he is.