Since I shared a very simple scrapbook page on Wednesday about fur kids, I decided to follow up with a story about my grandfur kid, Coca Cola. Do you have a pet story to tell? I'd love to hear about it!
Okay, tell me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure most of you have faced this scenario at least once or twice in your lives.
Here goes… you’re lying down on your recliner taking a well-deserved nap, having a wonderful dream about this cool, new product you saw earlier in your scrapbook magazine. You imagine all the great ways you’re going to use it. Then, you’re awoken by a terrible scream, followed by some crying and whining. You immediately realize that it’s not your husband finding the receipt from your most recent scrapbook store excursion; it’s the other love of your life. So, you get up from your recliner, pick her up and snuggle her to your neck, all the while soothing her and asking her what the problem is. As you’re doing this, you look into those big brown eyes and the next thing you know, she presses that cold wet nose to your cheek and starts licking you. Now your heart is breaking because you know that something is wrong with her and she is in pain, but she will never be able to tell you where it hurts because she’s a fur kid. And, unfortunately, we don’t speak the same language. I know that a lot of us have been in this same or similar situation. But, what I really want to know is: when did we become a nation that loves pets so much that we treat them like they’re human? Because, let me tell you, my heart could not have hurt any more if I was staring into my own children’s brown eyes.The fur kid I’m referring to is Coca-Cola, my son’s (our) black and tan miniature dachshund. Now, I swear I’ve heard this from other pet owners about their own dogs, and I’ve always rolled my eyes, but really, this dog does not know she’s a dog! And even though we don’t speak the same language, I still knew she was in terrible pain, and I needed to do something.
The next morning we took her to the vet. By this time she was in so much pain she couldn’t even lift her little head to look at me. All she did was whine. It broke my heart. The vet checked her out all over. He took lots of blood work and x-rays. About one hour and $500.00 later we finally had an answer, sort of. He thought there was something wrong with her neck. Are you kidding me? After all that, that was his answer to me? He thought something was wrong with her neck? I wanted to throw something at this man. He just charged me $500.00 to tell me he “thought” something was wrong with her neck. I wanted to yell, “What was your first clue; the fact that she couldn’t move her head without yelping?” I knew there was something wrong with her neck, for goodness sake! Don’t charge me $500.00 to tell me something I already know. Tell me how we are going to fix it. And tell me is exactly what he proceeded to do; I needed to take her to a doggy specialist.
The following day, we drugged her up with some pain medicine and drove two hours away to the doggy specialist. He examined her and took more lab work and x-rays. After waiting what seemed like an eternity and paying another $500.00, we finally had an answer. Our beautiful, Coca-Cola had a ruptured disc in her neck, and she wouldn’t get any better without surgery. I thought my heart was really breaking. We had a tough decision to make. Do we put her down, or do we pay another $3,500 to make her all better. I looked at my son and said, “I need to call your dad.” Now, let me just say that my husband loves our fur kids as much is I do, but he also makes decisions with his head, not his heart like me. Do we really have $3,500.00, especially after just spending $1,000.00 to get a diagnosis? I picked up my cell phone and called my husband. I was truly dreading the call because I was so afraid of what he was going to say. After listening to everything I had to tell him, from what the doctor had to say, to what our son’s and my feelings were, he said, “Do what you have to do to save her.” At that, I burst into tears. Wow! (Have I mentioned how much I love this man?) With that done, my son and I gave our little wiener dog hugs and kisses and left her with this wonderful group of people who were going to look after and take care of our precious little girl. The ride back to our house seemed extra long. I worried so much about her. She was in so much pain and she looked so scared when we left her. The following afternoon, we received one of the best phone calls ever. Our little wiener was out of surgery and doing just fine! I cried my eyes out again. I was so relieved she did well and she would be home in a few days.
I am so happy to say that our little wiener girl is back to normal. She’s not allowed to jump up on things anymore or walk up the stairs in our house. But aside from that, she’s back to her old stubborn, “I’ll come over to you if I want to,” attitude and I’m loving every minute of it! We now also have another weiner dog in our house. After losing my beloved Cocker Spaniel, Tawnee Renee, almost two years ago after 13 years of loving her, we brought home our newest fur kid, Ruby Renee!
And after going through all that terrible stress with Cola, I realized something very important. I’m going to have to sell a lot of scrapbook pages and rubberstamped projects to pay for that vet bill. I’d better get busy.
Thanks for joining me. Until next time…
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