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mrissaUff da. Un-Mrissish hour. But at least it isn't a Tuesday.
So. Yesterday we noticed one of Ista's eyelids was a bit swollen. Same deal today. We figured we'd keep an eye on it. She was a little punky but not majorly punky, so we figured we could wait for the normal vet hours.
I went to bed at a sane and Mrissish hour, went to sleep, was minding my own business (at least, I presume I was), and then I woke up. Something was wrong. Brain eventually identified something as two things: sound of dog worrying at something and smell of dog blood. She had scratched at her eyelid and managed to make it bleed. So we tried to fashion booties for her to keep her from pawing at it, but she is resourceful, and we hadn't got the fourth one on before one of the first three was off. So -- we figured it was not good to be bleeding that close to the eye, and we figured our own resources were likely to be inadequate to the task, and we took her to the emergency vet.
And she did have a minor infection of the eyelid, and so they gave her antibiotics and a conehead, and she is now trying to figure out how to get rid of the conehead or, failing that, use it for stashing treats to carry around with her. And as middle of the night e-vet runs on the coldest night of the year go, it really was remarkably low-stress -- there was never the "what if our beastlet dies???" moment, just, oh, well, better get this taken care of, then.
And now to bed. The adrenaline didn't kick in ever (due to the no-fear-of-dogly-death thing), so mostly I'm a bit cold and a lot tired. But the dogbeast will be fine, and that's important.
So. Yesterday we noticed one of Ista's eyelids was a bit swollen. Same deal today. We figured we'd keep an eye on it. She was a little punky but not majorly punky, so we figured we could wait for the normal vet hours.
I went to bed at a sane and Mrissish hour, went to sleep, was minding my own business (at least, I presume I was), and then I woke up. Something was wrong. Brain eventually identified something as two things: sound of dog worrying at something and smell of dog blood. She had scratched at her eyelid and managed to make it bleed. So we tried to fashion booties for her to keep her from pawing at it, but she is resourceful, and we hadn't got the fourth one on before one of the first three was off. So -- we figured it was not good to be bleeding that close to the eye, and we figured our own resources were likely to be inadequate to the task, and we took her to the emergency vet.
And she did have a minor infection of the eyelid, and so they gave her antibiotics and a conehead, and she is now trying to figure out how to get rid of the conehead or, failing that, use it for stashing treats to carry around with her. And as middle of the night e-vet runs on the coldest night of the year go, it really was remarkably low-stress -- there was never the "what if our beastlet dies???" moment, just, oh, well, better get this taken care of, then.
And now to bed. The adrenaline didn't kick in ever (due to the no-fear-of-dogly-death thing), so mostly I'm a bit cold and a lot tired. But the dogbeast will be fine, and that's important.
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Date: 2007-02-05 10:38 am (UTC)May you get much good sleep and warmth. May you wake up to Ista being dedicated to bearing treats and showing off her treat-holding INTACT cone. Sending you all hugs.
- Chica
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Date: 2007-02-05 01:10 pm (UTC)I just heard a little crooning sigh emanate from the bedroom where she and Mark are supposed to be sleeping. It is hard to be the bop.
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Date: 2007-02-05 01:34 pm (UTC)They had a pokebonnet on Rose after her puff ear surgery too. I just thought it looked like a pokebonnet, and switched the gauze tie for a nice scarf. (There's my age showing or maybe too many Little House on the Prairie books.)
The name stuck because Rose used to use it to poke me in the calves when she wanted a treat, or a pet, or just because it was fun to do. :)
no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 02:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 04:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 10:53 pm (UTC)I can't see a dog in a conehead without thinking of the Simpsons episode in which Grandpa mistakes Santa's Little Helper, so accoutered, for a lamp. When the dog escapes, Grandpa carols happily, "Goodbye, lamp!" This can still reduce Raphael and me to helpless laughter. Luckily nobody around here has had a cone for some time now, because it is rude to laugh at the afflicted.
I am glad she will be okay.
P.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 11:01 pm (UTC)It was not, it turns out, a cone of silence. Which was rather a shame, because that would be a useful thing.