With the workmen here, our already spastic new dog has taken her spazz-ness to unheard of levels. Yesterday, while the kids were at school and I was out running errands, Holly munched Q's newest favorite sword (the one from KK's brothers. Boo! Hiss!), a snack cup, two sacrificial Styrofoam cups, my poor Chinese evergreen plant, the contents of my office trash can, and - wait for it! - my pill sorter from the absolute back of my counter-top.
Luckily, there was only one day of meds left in it. She snarfed down a handful of vitamins, a Zoloft and a thyroid pill. She didn't eat any of the Welbutrins. I guess they taste bad! Too bad - they might have calmed her down! In a panicked call to my vet's cell phone, I found out that because of her size, Holly shouldn't have any side effects. Whew! At worst, she might get a little hyper. More hyper? Save me!
All of that was an extra long intro to today's story. When it was time to go to the gym, I put Holly and Blackie out in the back yard. I figured the worst she could do was take a chomp out of the patio furniture cushions (which she did, by the way). Wrong. She shredded the plastic ball bucket and ate a hole in the cushion. Oh, and she ripped a three inch gash in her rear right ankle. To my hasn't-attended-vet-school-eyes it looked like it went all the way to the bone.
We were a little slow on the uptake about her injury. T had been home for an hour when I got home with the kids. It was only after he finished his lunch hour and was getting ready to go back to work that he noticed the blood trail. He had seen spatters out on the patio, but assumed it was from her, ahem, delicate condition or that someone's gums were bleeding from eating the bucket.
Once I got a good look at it, I could see that the skin was just hanging open and there was LOTS of blood. In our defense, Holly was licking it so much that the blood was hard to see. Gah. Luckily, with all of Blackie's injuries, we were well prepared for dog triage. I gooped it up with Neosporin (and felt like my finger went all the way through her leg - ack!), then applied a cotton pad and wrapped it with vet wrap. In minutes she had torn the edges loose and was bleeding through the cotton, so I added another cotton pad and even more vet wrap.
Once my carpets and furniture were out of immediate danger, I called the vet. He has a soft spot for Holly since he was the one who saw her on Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, the office was closed for lunch until 2:00. I left a message. Then I whipped out his cell number and left an identical message there. He didn't get it until it was practically 2:00 anyway and told me to bring her in right away.
I loaded her up (easier said than done) and strapped in the kids (oh, joy! A trip to the vet with an injured dog and TWO squirmy, curious kids. Could this get any better?). When we got there the vet asked, "Did you bring me my baby?" and we were ushered to an exam room. Once he found out what had happened and saw where she was injured, he pumped her full of antibiotics and hustled her back to the kennels. His surgical staff leaves at noon, so there was no one there to help him with the surgery.
She is staying the night at the clinic so they can keep her still and monitor what she eats and drinks. She'll have the surgery tomorrow morning. The bummer is that they rushed her back to the kennels so quickly I didn't have a chance to love her up before I left. We are so worried that she thinks she has been abandoned again. Poor dog.
When it became clear to Q that Holly wasn't coming home with us, he staged a mini-mutiny in the lobby. "I WANT HOLLY! I want Holly NOW!!" Funny thing is, I didn't think he particularly cared for Holly. Guess I was wrong! The house has felt strangely empty without her.
Man, those free dogs are expensive!
*The sound an injured dog makes.