Who You Gonna Call…?

Well. It’s been a fortnight. Here’s a bit of a count-off.

• First, the whole I’m-bald-now thing. Y’all are caught up on that, right? (But wow, my hair REALLY does grow fast!)
• I’m on my second exposure quarantine–feeling just as fine as the first (read: like any other day), except I’ve given up on changing my pants every morning. 🤪 But, when you had four days off quarantine before you had to get right back on again… “day pants” start to loose their apparent importance.
• And then… there’s what I really want to talk about. Friday and Saturday evenings this week. Y’all ready for a story? *crazy, loony look*

First, let me say: we are all fine. Nothing is wrong, other than a bit of emotional weariness–something that we may all be feeling this time of year. Close to Christmas, with that deadline in the way of gifts starting to ride you and the pressure to *feel the spirit* if you don’t, and *not lose it* if you do. Oh, and don’t get sick–who wants to be sick over the holidays? 😑 

All that to say–we all know that run-down emotional feeling. That “I love my family, but I’ve had enough of y’all’s faces” feeling. That “can time just stop for a few minutes” feeling. The idea of “I don’t want to die, but I’m kind of tired of daily life at the moment”.

We’ve all been there, and come out the other side better and stronger. Likely, after the post-Christmas nap week. (Can we make that official? Who do I need to get to sign that into law?? Congress, probably. Ehhh… not worth it.)

Now.

Story time.

Thursday I noticed Cor had some of what looked like blood crusted on his hair close to–but not too close to–his eye. Still, I got worried and looked closer. It was dried, and there wasn’t much, just enough to notice it and for it to dry crusty. I cleaned it up and figured I’d keep an eye on it. Throughout the day, Cor was pawing at his face quite a bit. No doubt the scab felt weird–a reason I normally pick mine off before they can really heal. We’d scratch and rub his face for him here and there around the area, trying to help. There wasn’t any more blood, and the wound seemed to be healing on its own. He’d probably just run into something and scratched himself. The kind of bumps and scrapes you get from playing. 

I didn’t think much of it, until Friday night when I looked at his face–really looked at the whole of it, not just that area. We were getting ready for bed and I was giving him some rubs and pets before we settled in for the night–nothing too unusual. And then I saw his eye. The ridge above the lid was red and raw, and the eye itself was bloodshot. My heart sank and I couldn’t help it when the word “infection” sprang to mind.

An infected eye is never good, and if he lost his sight… or, worse, his eye…? Sight is important for a service dog and if that was what ended his training… I’d lost Yaha, I couldn’t lose Cor, too—my heart wouldn’t be able to take it. 

I don’t think I’ve had a cold sweat like the one I was sitting in that night since my anxiety with storms.

As I was studying his eye, I saw a bit of the hair below it had gotten in the eye. Please, God, let it be that the hair was irritating his eye, making him paw at it to get it out, and ended up rubbing his eyelid raw. Please, let that be all it is…

He stopped pawing at it that night, and I trimmed the hair around his eyes the Saturday morning, which seemed to fix it. 😅

His fear stage really seemed to be acting up on Saturday. He would lay down for a handful of seconds before getting up and searching out a different spot, tired but unable to fall asleep. Trying to find the right spot. Walking low and hunched, sniffing around the edges of the room—as if looking for a place to poop. If I moved, he moved.

After a growing concern as to a lack of… solid excrement, we contacted his breeders to ask if he was sounding like he may have an intestinal blockage—something that could end up fatal if not treated.

They didn’t automatically assure us that that’s not what it was. She kept asking me questions and we determined we had to treat him immediately (like NOW or sooner) for bloat. Y’all have heard of that weird thing where horses’ stomachs can inflate with gas and twist on itself and kill them? Yeah…let’s not rule that one out…

And so began round two of cold sweats and begged entreaties that I could keep this puppy in as many nights. So began the uneasy, gnawing feeling that “I can’t lose him; I can’t do without him,” is unwaveringly met with “oh, really? How about I show you you can.” Too often He’s more concerned with your character than your comfort—while true—morphs into a barking drill sergeant, leaving no room for the loving Father He is. He may be more concerned with your character, but no good father would give their child a rock when they asked for bread. (Matt. 7:10)

All the same, you learn far better through challenges than bliss. And, a lot of the time, those are the situations that give you encouragement or experience to help those coming after you (2 Cor 1:4) and since I have this platform… well, I was scared that was going to be an experience I could empathize with people through.

The less philosophical concern became just what, exactly, he was going through, how long he had been, and whether we needed to get to the vet immediately or if there was something we could do at home to help him. (We were all awaiting slightly overdue paychecks at the time and emergency vet bills are scarier than any horror movie, fight me.)

The answers the breeders had? Let’s treat for bloat and constipation and see how he reacts—is his stomach hard or distended?

I didn’t think so, but I was in such a panic, I couldn’t really tell. (My hands were legitimately shaking—apparently that’s not just a literary device.)

Mom, Cor, and I got in the car and high-tailed it to the Kroger five minutes away to pick up some Gas-X, Pepcid, and Karo corn syrup. The first two to help if the situation was bloat, and the corn syrup to… ah, stimulate the bowels. We were told we had 10 minutes to see a change or we were to go straight to the emergency vet. At 10pm on a Saturday night. 

In the car (with 5 and 9% phone batteries and wearing mostly pajamas) we catalogued their answers as to red and green flags.

Red: trying to throw up but can’t (get to a vet immediately); standing still staring at a wall, not wanting to move, looking dazed and confused. We saw none of those, praise the LORD!

Green: calmer; any sort of gas release; pooping.

Consequently, I learned how to shove medicine tablets down a dog’s throat and how to give them a tablespoon-ish of Karo syrup 😖 (honey would’ve worked, but we couldn’t find any in a sprint that resembled the TV show Super Market Sweep). 

We decided to use our 10 minutes wisely and run home to grab phone chargers and actual shoes instead of slippers. By the time we got home, we’d had some burps, and his entire face looked less scared/uncomfortable, he was laying down and would let us pet his stomach. And my stomach also commenced untying itself from a mess the Gordian knot would envy.

Again, the thing I was scared would take him from me turned out to be something treatable. 

Why? Because we had gone to those who knew what they were talking about—who had gone through it before and come out the other side. Those whose stories and experiences I could learn from.

That’s not to say it wasn’t a long night of several “go outs”. That’s not to say I didn’t sleep with the light on and mom in my twin bed with me to keep active(ish) eyes on him. That’s not to say we aren’t still on the lookout for poop. But it is to say always go to those who have fruit on the tree. Who know the secrets of the trade. We were able to save money we didn’t have at our easy, ready, disposal, and an emergency vet visit because we did.

In sort of the same vein, albeit on a more positive note, we are getting farther with the scent training (two possible seizure responses in a row this week!!) and pounding away at that one stubborn video (as well as a few other stubborn “growing up” challenges) because we are listening to those who know through previous experience. Our trainers. Those who can tell us “it’s okay; this is normal”. I cannot tell you how valuable that is.

So, as we sit here, in early December with deadlines for gifts and resolutions looming, the unsaid necessity of feeling the spirit continuously, and the concerns of an elevation of the risk of “cold and flu season,” with the emotional weariness that comes at the end of years that haven’t taken such an emotional toll as this one…

It’s okay; you’re not the only one that feels this way.

You’ll make it.

This, too, shall pass.

💜You were not born to fail.💜

Laur & Cor