The past weekend started on a pretty crappy note. Originally we were going to take the older kiddo and her friends camping as a birthday party for a 13 years old. When we woke up the sky was grey and before I even had a chance to take the dogs out it started to rain.
Husband said that the forecast was promising rain all day with thunder storm overnight and suggested that taking bunch of girls camping in this kind of weather was a bad idea. Grumpily I had to agree, but we needed to come up with a new plan. I took the dogs out saying that I will think it over while walking.
When I came back to the house, I noticed that Mozart had bloody foot prints. At first, I wasn't really concerned as he wasn't limping on the way back from the woods and I thought it was probably just his nail, however, the amount of blood I saw when I picked up his foot was telling me otherwise.
I ran inside the house and brought a bowl of warm water with Epsom salt to rinse his foot and see what is going on. On the examination it was apparent that it wasn't a nail but his paw pad and I couldn't really stop the blood to be able to really see how bad it was. Unfortunately, this called for a visit to a vet. In mean time we still had to make up our mind about the birthday party. Finally it was decided that we will try to reschedule the camping trip and invite the girls who cannot make it on the newly set date, tonight for a sleepover.
The whole reason why we decided on the camping trip in the first place as we couldnt imaging having 12 thirteen year old girls in our tiny house for a slumber party. I quickly wrapped Moz's foot so that he doesn't bleed all over my car, jumped in the car and headed to the vet, at the same time I was trying to call half the parents and let them know about the change of plan. Husband was going to call the other half.
I managed to get a hold of two parents before I reached the office, so all other calls had to wait till I was finished. While sitting in the exam room I kept on getting texts from Husband saying that pretty much all the girls were coming both weekends, well except the two I had called myself of course. Silly me was actually sticking to the agreed plan. I was really trying to focus on the vet while fighting the panic trying to set in at the idea of having 10 teenage girls at our house.
The bandage I made did absorbed enough blood that when it was taking off we could see what was going on with poor Mozzie's foot. His large paw pad was practically slashed in half and the cut was going really deep. Yep, it had to be stitched.
The biggest problem I have with the vets is that they do not like to do things to my dog right in front of me. they always desperately want to take the dog back where technician can do her work. This really bothers me, I do not have the kind of dog I can feel comfortable to just handing over to someone. It also appeared to me that the vet was a bit afraid of Moz - very bad sign, in my opinion.
We had finally agreed that they sedate him in the room where I was present and then they can take him in the back area and stitch him up. I had to leave as it was going to take about hour and a half as they were nice enough to squeeze us in without an appointment. I left the vet and went back home to figure out the party situation.
The last bad surprise of the day was the $700 bill I had to pay when I picked Moz up! I need to find a cheaper vet.
He is doing fine, I think he is only limping a little bit because the bandage makes the walking uncomfortable. Other than that, the biggest problem we are facing is the "no running" regiment for two weeks. First of all, Moz is not the kind of dog that can be a couch potato, I am seriously concerned that by the end of two weeks he will take the house down brick by brick.
Secondly, keeping his bandage dry is big pain in the butt. The grass in the morning is wet, the grass in the evening is wet. So every time I take him out I need to put bag on top of the bag on top of the bag. I finally ran out of bags, but the best construction I came up with so far is: saran wrap over the bandage covered by one of my kids sock, covered by a plastic bag.
And finally, just to aggravate the situation even more, Mozart cannot poop. No, not because he is constipated, but because this crazy dog has his pooping ritual. The ritual consist of crazy zoomies before and after pooping. I can see that he wants to go potty and I see he is gearing up to take off which I put an end to, in response he forgets about what he wanted to do! I took him out twice tonight with the same outcome - no poop. If he does it in the house while I am asleep I will be livid!
Well, this turned to be a post on it's own, so I will have to write about the Sunday tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment