Upon getting home yesterday, I let my mutts in and my favorite "Walter", a.k.a "Tubby", a.k.a "Bubba", a.k.a "Professor Phineas Q. Butterfat" was acting very strange. He's normally very rambunctious when he comes in and quite sassy about demanding his dinner but last night he came in very quiet, ate his food and then began to start panting and "Army" crawling around on the floor.
He's a Pitbull mix and a pretty big boy. About 80 pounds and he's built like a dumpster but I could still tell that his stomach was extremely swollen. It was painful for him to jump up on his bed and so I panicked. I recently saw a piece on Animal Planet about "bloat" and how prevolent it is in bigger dogs so I rushed him to the Emergency vet.
Long story short, they've kept him all night and after several x-rays, blood work, examinations and basically a thousand fucking dollars, they have no idea what the hell is wrong with him. They said they don't think it's bloat and if it is an obstruction he's still having bowel movements so it must be small. He hasn't been poisoned and all of his labs were normal. What the fuck?
The vet said she consulted another vet and neither of them get it. He's still swollen, "Army" crawling but at times seems happy and wagging his tail. I have to pick him up at 7 a.m. and take him to my regular Vet and see if she can figure it out. He's only 6 and that's why we haven't hesitated at the cost. Plus....it's fucking Walter man. Everybody loves him. He's the shit.
We got him from the dog pound 5 years ago when he was about a year old. He was to be put down the next day but something about him just sucked me in. While all the other dogs were clamoring to be rescued from their impending deaths, he just laid there like "I know you're not going to pick me, so I'm not going to waste my time."
I flippin' love him so much! Fuck, I hope he's going to be o.k. He's my "Tubba-bubba".
Ihope this works out well
ReplyDeleteThanks Barn! I just got back from MY vet where they are keeping him for the day because they don't get it either. Fingers crossed!
ReplyDeleteI hope he's better by this time tomorrow. That is scary. I've only ever owned cats, and they tend to not have all the funky issues that dogs have. Plus, they are easier to clean up after.
ReplyDeleteThanks Steve-O. I love cats too and you're right that they tend to not have as much weird crap happen to them.
ReplyDeleteWe have a friend who has 3 cats, doesn't care for dogs but LOVES Walter. He's just one of those. He transcends being just a beast. He's named after Walter Sobchek from "The Big Lebowski" for a reason!
I hope he gets better fast! Having had a sick dog before, I know how that feels.
ReplyDeleteThanks C.G.F.- He's home now and seems to be MUCH better. The Vet's best diagnosis was that we caught him at the very beginning of "bloat" but that he was medicated and given an I.V. so quickly, that he got lucky and his stomach kept from flipping.
ReplyDeleteSo now, Fatty has to eat 3 small meals a day and he can't drink water or get stirred up for an hour after he eats. AND it ended up being several hundred dollars less than the initial estimate of a thousand so YAY. I sang to him all the way home and I'm going to believe that he enjoyed it. I LOVE MY DOG!
Maybe he's just depressed CAUSE YOU KEEP CALLING HIM FATTY!
ReplyDeleteYou've wounded his self esteem and/or inner puppy.
My dog died last year - it was very sad. Allow me to hope that yrs recovers swiftly
ReplyDeleteSteve-Hee hee, maybe. I'll try to have more supportive nicknames for him and see if it staves off another attack. (Smiley Face)
ReplyDeleteThanks Lerm! Sooooo sorry to hear about your buddy. It's the worst part about having a pet. Sometimes I'm tempted to stop this dog business and get a parrot just because of their longevity. Again, very sad to hear about your pup.
That'll be sad....your funeral, decades from now, and there's your parrot, in a cage draped with black silk, in a folding chair on the front row, yelling, "Booock! Wet floor, Heidi! Boooock!
ReplyDeleteDoh! What a horrid scenario. I'm not having a funeral though. I hate going to them so I've decided to be cremated and have my ashes ground into some really good weed so people can smoke me. I'd rather be an upper when I croak instead of a downer.
ReplyDeleteMy father-in-law swears that when my MIL dies (he assumes he'll outlive her), he'll keep her ashes in a coffee can in the back of the car, and if he ever gets stuck in snow, he'll sprinkle the ashes onto the snow for traction.
ReplyDeleteThat's love baby!
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