Our youngest boxer, Ziggy has totally healed from his "30 minutes or less nut choppin' or it's free" and the Vet-in-a-Van will back in our county tomorrow from eight to five. Our bull dog Charlie is next up to be cut down to size.
I plan on being there early (again without an appointment) and one of the first to pull into the parking lot. That always says "Yes I have an appointment and this is when you told me to be here!"
The change in Ziggy has been pretty significant.
It took him about two days to get over the trauma of his unexpected no frills discount castration but rebounded quickly. I think his bark may be a little higher but hasn't jumped the fence once, only got into one dog fight (instigated by Charlie, as always) and for once backed down instead of tearing Charlie to pieces before we could separate them. Charlie's been with us for over six years now, hasn't won a dog fight yet but will have to give it to him. He's persistent. He thinks he's a bad ass.
We have an electric prod my sister loaned us. She used to have two males who got into fights. I popped Zig once and he cowered under the computer desk. Charlie kept after him and took three pops with the zapper to get him away.
Dog fights are the worst, especially when your own two pups and love them both.
Zig has been so much better tempered and am sorry we didn't do this years ago, not to mention is much better for their health as they grow older.
Charlie thinks he's a bad boy but is a fat ole baby with a mighty growl who has never been able to back it up without stitches or a really messed up face. We called him "Scar Face" for months after a particularly brutal loss.
"Cut them off I say!"
And it shall be!
He's such a baby am almost sure will love the Tramadol I shove down his fat throat to keep him whacked out for a day or two.
We could all use a forty eight hour break from him around here, especially when know he'll wake up without those balls he thought could (but never did) win him a dog fight.
It takes two weeks for the stitches to come out and then will take our oldest boxer, Ham to go under the "Sling Blade."
Is it sad I am almost excited for his loss?
It's a win all around, for them and me. It's better for their health and cuts chances down for many cancers and problems.
I was exhausted and crashed early last night. Got up at seven thirty this morning and had ole Charlie at the Vet-in-a-Van right on time. They didn't even ask if I had an appointment. I got out of my car like I was expected, filled out the paperwork and asked if I could pick him up in about an hour? Doc remembered me. He asked how Ziggy was doing, took Charlie's leash, handed it to one of the helpers and off my boy went up the steps of the van.
I went by the credit union to pull out some cash, stopped by the house to get the crate (recovery room) ready in my bedroom and headed back at the appointed time.
I had to wait about fifteen or twenty minutes but passed the time chatting with other dog owners and admiring a beautiful American bull dog and cute Australian shepherd. One of the owners wanted to wait and see Charlie when he came out after I told him he looked just like Uga.
One of the assistants came out and said it would be another minute or two, Charlie had just thrown up.
Good news for me! Ziggy had barfed in my sister's car after I picked him up from being neutered.
A few minutes later the Doc came lumbering out of the van with Charlie in his arms belly up. His usual foot long tongue was sticking out about one inch, bone dry and shriveled up. He has always had one wandering eye but today they were both almost looking in total different directions and felt like I was picking up a dog who had been run over by a Mack truck. He looked downright pitiful (as my husband, Jed would say) and had I not been through this with Ziggy already would have been mortified.
The man who had waited to see Uga simply walked back to his car and left as we hoisted my zombie onto the truck seat, covered with an old comforter. Charlie has definitely seen better days.
I got back home with without him throwing up. My boy barely moved. I got out of the truck and went around to open the passenger side. Charlie didn't budge but I noticed he had made a deposit from his other end on the comforter behind him. I had to half pull half carry him out and put him on the driveway, he weighs over seventy pounds. I grabbed the leash and he didn't move. I had to go wake Zach up and have him carry Charlie into the house. We stopped at the only ground floor bedroom and put him in Massey's room. He immediately threw up twice.
He crashed for a couple of hours as I cleaned the carpet after he hurled again and again.
I thought he would be worse than Ziggy and sure came out of the Vet-in-a-Van looking rough but after three hours got up and went to the water bowl by the back door. Ziggy didn't get up for almost twelve hours and wouldn't drink anything for over twenty four.
It's now evening and Charlie is laying in the floor beside the computer desk as I type. He didn't want to be alone except for those first few hours. He's gone out back with Ham and seems just fine albeit even slower than before. (and he was pretty slow)
By the time I get Ham done next, I'll feel like one of those mothers of three who sterilizes the dropped pacifier of her first kid, washes the second's off under hot water and simply put the third's dropped one in her own mouth to clean it.
I was stress exhausted by five and took a nap on the couch, Charlie beside me recovering nicely.
Absence indeed does make the heart grow fonder.
Thanks to my sister and friends have had transportation. I have an incredible job and my husband does too.
Our life is fixing to (as we say in the south) take off and finally in the right direction.
We will be okay and make it through. I know this now.
To be honest, I want to hold Tim's hand again and think he wants me to.
I'm glad we weathered this storm together a thousand miles apart and look forward to locking my hand in his in a few months.
Til next time...COTTON