I'll Have What He's Having

Last week I had to do one of those tasks that you dread and put off for days....taking Manu to the vet.  He is petrified at the vet's, with muzzling a must and minimal contact from animal health professionals the result.  The poor guy, he really is scared, but it makes everything extra difficult and stressful on everyone.

Prior to this vet visit, I had had Chamois in to get some more pills for her arthritis.  Yes, we are into the geriatric years, I'm afraid.  It appears that vet visits and medication are becoming the norm around here.  Anyway, the vet had dealt with Manu a few months ago and they basically had to knock him out to check a skin condition and a lump in his mouth.  She remembered him well.  Very well. She might, in a somewhat sarcastic tone, have said that Manu 'loves' her.

Expectations....

The vet suggested that Manu may benefit from a dose of a serotonin-uptake drug before his next visit, just to take the edge off and make it less stressful for everyone.  Yes, I agreed, drugs are the answer!

With a conservative dose popped down his throat an hour before the dreaded visit (having not had this medication before, we didn't want to give him a big dose and then have me scratching my head as to how I was going to get 60 kg of mush into the car), Manu and I headed off to our appointment, me with trepidation, he with great delight at being in the car.

We didn't achieve that outcome either.

His happiness was soon squashed like a pesky ant as we parked at the clinic.  He shook like a leaf, just about vibrating out of his skin when he realised where he was.  So, the conservative dose clearly was too conservative.

As I waited in the waiting room, trying to wrestle 60 kg of yellow dog from trying to jump in my arms (I now have bruises shaped like claw marks all down my thighs as a result), I prayed that a little bit more time would soothe his nerves and allow the drugs to penetrate his anxiety.  The minute the vet came out, a low rumble emanated from his throat.  Crap.

He was not smiling.

We decided that more happy drugs were in order, so 3 times what he had already been given where unceremoniously shoved down his throat (by me of course, Manu never would have let the vet get close enough) and Manu and I were left alone in the consultation room to marinate for half an hour or so while (fingers crossed), his serotonin levels hopefully rose to delightfully carefree levels.

I think the drugs are kicking in.

As time passed, his wind loudly passed - constantly - so to me that was a sign that he was getting more relaxed.  Always find the positive in a negative, I say.  It turned out to be a poor sign, and poor logic, as farting comes as easily to Manu as does ferretting around the yard for cat poop to eat.

The drugs did appear to be having an affect though - his eyes went softer, and he would smile and wag his tail at me.  That is, until the vet or a vet nurse popped in to see how we were doing.  Then it was back to a growl, with pulled back ears, curled toes and the give-away whale eyes bugging out of his skull.  Oh dear.  Smile, wag, wag, wag, growl, growl, growl, smile, wag, wag, wag.  We gave up.

With muzzle in hand, I shoved it on his face and cradled his head tightly while they attempted to get blood from a back leg.  That was a no go as he kept trying to crouch down and cut off the vein.  So back to the front leg we went, which we were avoiding as they would be close to his head, and more stressful. Bloody dog.



Fortunately good, big veins meant easy and quick blood removal.  With that done, the muzzle was removed and he relaxed slightly (while still growling of course).  Stupid dog, we could have been in and out of the vets in 15 minutes had he not behaved like such a goose. One and a half hours later we were on our way home, medication in hand, bank account lighter and back to having a slightly drugged dog smiling at me. Covered in dog fur with the stench of Manu's farts still lingering in my nostrils, we went on our merry way.

If only the muzzles looked like this.

Or this.  That would clear the waiting room.

So here we are, Chamois on pain medication for the rest of her life for her horrifically arthritic legs (hearing bone grinding on bone as she sits or moves is something that I'll never get used to) and Manu is now on the same medication for his arthritis.  Plus he's on antibiotics yet again for that stubborn lip fold dermatitis.  Yikes.  There is a medication line up on my counter morning and night read to pop down waiting throats.  Plus we are dog sitting Mabel again, and she is on daily tablets as well.  Look at all of these oldies and their pills, it's the canine old folks home.

Maybe Clawde and Purrkins can help out?

My one blessing is that Chamois and Manu are dream dogs to pill. They come and sit when called (we are almost at the stage where I just shake the pill bottles and they come) and pilling them is easy and simple with little fuss.  I supposed the fact that they get a doggie treat after each time they are medicated helps too. 

Let's just not talk about pilling Mabel.....that dog has skill and definitely puts mine to the test.

Artistic recreation of pilling Mabel.