Weiner Dog Blues
The vet’s office called yesterday. I called them back and then drove home on my lunch hour to check on my dog. She doesn’t seem to fuss when she doesn’t think anyone’s around to hear it. All was quiet. I had her with her food and water in the spare bedroom. When I opened the door she was sitting, staring aimlessly. Her food is scattered. Her water bowl, that I change daily, is murky because she’s stepped in it and gotten food in it. I change it again.
I want to see what she’s like for a day without pain meds which should be easy because she fights me so when I try to give her pills (even when I trick her with peanut butter) that I am afraid that I am going to lose a finger. She doesn’t like to be confined (not even to be held or cuddled). She does fuss when I try to put her in the bed with me to sleep for the night. I put her in the spare bedroom again. I wonder if she hates me for giving her the Tylenol. Maybe she knows that I am the Joan Crawford of dog owners.
“No more peanut butter!”
This morning when I open the door of the spare bedroom she’s in the same spot as yesterday noon, sitting, staring aimlessly, but this time in the opposite direction. I speak to her in a soothing voice and bend down to pet her. She flinches like I’m going to hit her. I’ve never hit her in my life. Cuffed her under the chin perhaps, for discipline, but even that was exceedingly rare and not done forcefully but just for shock value. It’s like you might slap a toddler on the behind to keep him away from the stove. She’s never flinched when I’ve touched her before.
After a few minutes she comes out of the spare bedroom and starts bumping around the entire house. Minimal fussing and whining, thankfully. I don’t know. I really don’t know what to do. This doesn’t seem like much of a life for her. She’s frightened and doesn’t like to be touched. I have to make sure that she gets food and water since I’m afraid that she can’t find the bowls, though they are in the same spot they’ve always been.
I am supposed to take her in to the vet’s first thing on Wednesday so they can examine her again. They will keep her while I’m at work, and then I’ll come pick her up or whatever after I’m done. Or whatever is what I think will happen at this point. But I wonder if I am being fair to her. Maybe she likes stepping into her water bowl and bumping into things and soiling herself. Maybe she hates me. Maybe I am getting rid of her not to put her out of her misery but to put me out of mine since she’s no longer the affectionate animal she once was only a few days ago. I don’t know, and I am so sad.