I am sorry, but it’s not acceptable for my dog to be sick, and if only he’d told me


It will likely come as no surprise that I am a heavy-duty animal lover. So is Wendy. To be frank, I wouldn’t have gotten together with her if she weren’t.

In my love of animals – all kinds of animals; domestic pets, livestock, critters or the wild, fish or fowl and all the mammals – I’m not neurotic about it. While I converse with Max I don’t really anticipate a return comment.

But, throughout me life, from the time I was a young child, I always had animals. Sometimes I think I have liked my pets more than most humans. They don’t give you no shit – except the kind you are expected to pick up, and I always do. They are honorable. They don’t deceive or tell lies. And they never, ever judge no matter how crappy a body’s behavior might be. “Hey, that’s not Mom, so why are you hugging and kissing her? But, I’m cool about it. Won’t go any further than me.”

So, I had cats, and I had dogs, and I had chickens, and I had ducks and I had geese. And it was all a worthwhile experience.

And in my love of animals there is one thing about them I don’t like. When they are ailing they cannot tell you what’s wrong. They can’t describe their symptoms or offer opinions on said symptoms. That’s frustrating.DSCN2225

All last week Max was unwell. Now we love Max almost neurotically, so we were disconcerted to say the least as he was lethargic, looked deeply depressed and gave meaning to the term ‘hangdog’. He didn’t want to eat. He didn’t want to go for walks. He had the blahs big-time. And of course I, in my own neurotic response to such things ended up thinking the worst. He’s nine now. He’s a big dog. Big dogs have shorter life expectancies, etc, etc. Worst-possible-scenarios running through my mind at fever pitch.

To the vet a week ago today and the assessment was that he was suffering from muscle inflammation from something having been pulled. He was put on anti-inflammatory stuff. That worked at the time and after giving him some time to relax he picked up a bit. At the same time, he wasn’t eating. He got to the point that he didn’t even want ‘treats’. Entirely unlike him. He was spending his days lying sequestered under the dogwood in the back yard. Like a depressed person, he didn’t want to mix-and-mingle.

Back to the vets again this past weekend. A further attempt to get to the bottom of it. We parted with a goodly sum to get blood tests, x-rays, an ultrasound and other stuff. A possibility exists that for what was deemed a gastrointestinal thing antibiotics might yet have to be prescribed, but at the moment he has been given the equivalent of human antacids and he seems to quite like food again. Not in huge quantities, but, you know, puppy-steps.

Now if only he could have told us what was wrong he might have saved everybody a lot of grief – not to mention money.


8 responses to “I am sorry, but it’s not acceptable for my dog to be sick, and if only he’d told me

  1. Woof woof woof woof!

    (Translation: wishing you a speedy recovery, Max!)

  2. I was very nervous while reading this. Feel free to cut to the end at the beginning next time, so I know Max is okay. Then, I’ll happily read what’s bothering him.


    *gives skritches*

  3. I have always wished I could hear animals talk like Dr. Doolittle. We cannot read their minds, only go by their actions when it differs from the norm. Glad that Max is going to be fine now.

  4. Aw poor Max. Happy to hear he’s doing better.

  5. Poor chap….i’m glad he is on the mend.
    It would be helpful if they could give more clues…..but then vets would starve and we couldn’t have that.

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