Baggy's daily state!
Depression (Black = really bad/Grey = not great/Blue = okay/Yellow = sunny day): Black.
Anxiety (From 1 = barely any to 10 = gibbering wreck standard): 6.
Tears: A lot.
Pancakes (Yes/No): No.
Syns (Baggy is allowed 8-15): Comfort food needed!
Weight in her terrifying naked state (Stones and pounds): No idea.
Overall day: 😢
Up early to get to the holiday cottage and to take Minty Mutt to the vets for his annual jab and check-up. "Not the best day for the wiggly journey", thought Clever Bird as a tired Baggy tried to dodge the floods, branches and flying leaves. As they approached Long Melford the weather turned even worse, with squally downpours, horizontal squirts of rain that looked as though they were coming straight out of a hose pipe on full blast and a temperature dip to four degrees Centigrade. Lovely British weather. It took seconds for Baggy to get absolutely soaked as she got Mint out of the car. Very wisely, number one furry stayed in the car and had a snooze while Furry Mama took Minty to the vets.
The vet asked how he'd been. "Well actually, I'm a bit worried about him", said Furry Mama. "He hasn't seemed himself for a few weeks now, he's lost a lot of weight and it's as if he's changed personality."
"In what way?"
"Well bearing in mind that he's a re-enactor dog, who isn't worried about canons, guns, or anything similar, suddenly he hates bangs. He's terrified of thunder and yesterday my husband was attempting to swat flies, and every time he swatted, Mint shot straight to my side and put his head on me. He's never minded being left, but now he barks if I leave the house. And twice this week he's gone for a dog that's gone for him; in the past he just walked away, unless he was on the lead then he'd "protect" me. But he was off the lead, so it was a shock. He didn't hurt the other dogs and they started it, but it's not like him. And today for instance, he's always loved visiting the vets, but just now he was panting with stress. I'm also worried about the lump on his foot that's doubled in size since January, and the one on his side. I was told twice that that one is a fatty lump, but it seems much too hard to be fat to me."
"And how old is he?"
"Ten".
"Well the weight loss is probably just muscle loss from aging. As for the lump on his foot, that's really too big to operate on now."
"It doesn't seem to bother him".
Freda Fretter started to panic and Hormonal Hannah was beginning to shut down. Furry Mama tried to concentrate on what the vet was saying.
"That's good. But I agree with you about the one on his side, it is very hard to just be fat. Has it grown?"
"No, not recently".
"Well that's also good, but has it been checked?"
"No."
"Let's take a sample".
"Oh s**t, sorry Minty, I just promised you that no one was going to hurt you".
A very large needle appeared and the vet proceeded to try to stick it into the lump. Poor Mint was not happy. After the third attempt he shrieked in pain.
"That's not going to happen, it's clearly too sore. If you do decide to get the lump on his foot operated on, we'll do a biopsy while he's sedated".
By this point Furry Mama was trying not to cry.
"I'd rather not put him through an operation if I don't need to".
"No I don't blame you, especially at his age. Bring me a urine sample and we'll have a look, then maybe we'll take some bloods".
By now Freda and Furry Mama were getting really worried and not really listening.
"Blah, blah, blah,.............blah,..........dementia".
"Sorry?"
"He's showing signs of doggy dementia, it's basically the same as human's get and there are drugs that can slow it down, but they're really expensive. Is he insured?"
"Yes he is, but even if he wasn't........."
Baggy was now fighting tears, while thinking, well it's "just" memory loss.
Furry Mama left the vets armed with two week's worth of dementia pills, three month's worth of painkiller and three months worth of flea/worm treatments and £450 less money. Baggy got even more soaked while Furry Mama put Mint's ramp up so that he could get in the car. Once in, she told Calum that Mint has dementia. As she did so, the reality finally sank in. Her beloved Minty Mutt has dementia; the disease that Baggy's poor stepmother had. The disease that must be absolutely terrifying for the sufferer and that is so much more than "just" memory loss. The disease that kills you. Suddenly Baggy couldn't stop crying. It also made sense of some other things that Clever Bird forgot to mention to the vet: the sad, spaced-out look that Mint has had a few times recently and the sudden onset of "incontinence", or more accurately Mint no longer asking, or attempting to go out, before doing a poo, and more worryingly, the couple of occasions when Mint has snarled at Furry Mama when she's been "over-fussing" him. The poor dog's world has started to become a scary place. But £128 for two week's worth of dementia pills, or not, Baggy and Calum agree that they will find the money for them somehow. The mutt means the world to both of them............
No comments:
Post a Comment