Tag: blind dog

Sophie Update.

I took her to the vet this afternoon and saw a different doctor. (Why are vets all now younger than my kids?)

Fresh eyes did have a new idea, she suggested trying a different antibiotic. She has an elderly Yorkie with similar IBS issues and it works for him. I was happy to be talking to a vet who understands this frustration: her dog’s issues don’t have a clear diagnosis either. She totally got it when I said I’d spent thousands on diagnostic testing and just couldn’t drop another couple grand only to be told Sophie has “colitis.” Trust me, I KNOW THAT. It’s extremely frustrating that a diagnosis is so hard, and even with more expensive testing, we still might not get an answer, or a treatment that works. So, we will tinker around with meds, and try to wean her off the high dose of steroids.

We also did a B-12 shot and subcutaneous fluids, which the tech reported were sucked right in, which means she IS dehydrated after days of basically pooping her brains out. She goes back in two weeks. I may have to start a Go Fund Me for her, because exam, relatively inexpensive meds, fluids and B-12 injection came out to around $260. That’s not counting the prescription foods, giant potty pads, etc. it takes to manage living with her. So let’s hope this new med works.

She’s still a sweet, good girl, and she’s adjusting to being blind, or at least getting used to walking into things outdoors. I watched her on the leash this morning and it came to me: Sophie is now a Roomba! She walks in a direction, bounces off something, pauses to evaluate, changes direction. I have to be alert to keep her from walking face first into a downed tree branch or stumbling over a storm drain, but otherwise, she just bops around at the end of her leash like a Roomba, and when she’s feeling good, she doesn’t mind. She’ll adjust to being blind if her guts aren’t giving her misery. The combination is just utterly miserable. Fingers crossed for the new med.

A Blind Dog and Her Llama.

Sophie was a huge squirrel fan and TV watcher and barking at golfers off the balcony years ago. She’s losing her vision to cataracts. She’s eleven and a half, which is young for that, but it’s happening.

She always adored playing fetch with her stuffed toys. It was a longstanding ritual. I’d come home from work and the first thing she did was bring me a toy to throw. I’m not sure when she stopped doing that, but gradually fetch just stopped being our ritual. She’d still pick up a toy and toss it around, but fetch was no longer a thing.

The day before yesterday I noticed Sophie exploring the basket where I stash the gazillion toys when I clean the floor. She found a toy and pulled it out of the basket. I hadn’t really been paying attention. This morning I realized that she’d pulled out her llama and took it to her favorite dog bed, so she could nap with it.

I’m So Over This: Saturday Edition.

I am fine, I’m still getting paid and I’m healthy and all in all, I’m incredibly fortunate. But I’m so fucking over this.

I have been doing fairly well with walking regularly, meaning 4-5 times a week, barring early conference calls. In fact, when I go back to work, if I ever go back to work, I need to adjust my hours so I can get a couple of miles in the morning. It truly makes me feel 30% less stressed throughout the day.

This was to be my shirt for the Star Wars 5k that will not happen. I came across it the other day while looking for yoga pants, and felt a wave of deep sadness. It’s such a small thing in the vast sea of awful, but dammit. I really wanted to wear this shirt for a picture with Chewbacca.

I alternate between the gritted-teeth “I’M FINE!!!” and actually feeling normal for a bit, then I go to Publix and don’t feel fine or normal at all. I had a decades long habit of popping into Publix on my way home from work to pick up a day or two’s worth of meal ideas, and now that’s simply not possible. Publix is now limiting access to the store; we have to line up outside and a person is let in as one comes out.

I’ve realized that for the foreseeable future I’m going to have to plan out a week or more’s worth of meals, order online, and pick up my groceries. Again, it’s a small thing and lots of people already shopped a week or so at a time, it’s not a major hardship, so I don’t want to sound like such a whiner, but yeah, I’m whining a bit.

I’m sitting at a ergonomically dubious desk in my home office for hours, doing a job I still dislike, and by mid afternoon I’m not sore, exactly, but I just feel…weird, physically and mentally. I’m very, very lucky to still have an income, and I know it, but this is hard. It’s not so much the job, or even working from home, but it’s the lack of normalcy in my non-working hours that is draining me mentally and emotionally.

So, what’s good right now? My daughter found a u-pick blueberry farm in Clermont, where u-can’t-pick right now, but you can order online and make a pickup appointment and they bring them to your car.

2 lbs. of blueberries is a lot of berries, even when they’re absolutely huge. In addition to just eating them, I’ve made two loaves of lemon blueberry bread, and I think today the last of this load may go into blueberry cobbler. That sounds easy and comfort-food-y.

Southern Hill Farms also has peaches. Another trip to Clermont may be in order.
Lemon Blueberry Loaf – it’s a good, basic recipe, though not as lemony as I’d expected.

So, enough whining from me, I know why people read this: HOW ARE THE DOGS???

After months of no issues, Sophie’s intestinal woes are back. I picked up metronidazole over a week ago, it has done nothing. I’m pretty sure she’s fully blind now, and I swear she’s depressed about it. She sleeps a lot. Her appetite is still good and when I can persuade her to go outside she enjoys a leisurely sniff of all the things, but yeah, this is hard.

My poor girl.

Gidget is fine, but in dire need of grooming. I’m questioning her alleged Chihuahua – Yorkie heritage; she’s starting to look like an Ewok. I can give her a bath and trim her face and “sanitary region” a bit myself, but yeah, she’ll be in dire need of professional help in another month.

What’s tiny and fluffy and smells like a musty old rug??

We’re all hanging in through this weird, weird time. I hope you all are too.