The week before last I was running out of medication for Smooch, so had the vet’s technician fax the prescription to my regular pharmacy. I noticed the antibiotics were not the same as the ones he had been taking previously, but dosed him anyway starting Friday night. On Sunday morning my doggie struggled, but was unable to get to his feet. Research on the internet told me all sorts of horror stories about this new antibiotic, and I discontinued them immediately.
I contacted the vet early Monday morning. He told me to hold off on that medicine until our Wednesday appointment. By this time Smooch was again walking but not without difficulty; I had to push to help him make it into my truck. The ride did seem to energize him some, but climbing the 4 steps to the examining room sent him sprawling on his face; I was happy that the vet was able to witness it. He agreed (and didn’t seem really surprised) that this was caused by the type of antibiotics – it seems some dogs are allergic to them – in which case they can be highly dangerous, even to inflicting death.
Yeh – thanks for the heads up when prescribing them, huh? To be fair, he wasn’t aware that the technician had changed the medication, and by the look in his eye, I’m sure she’ll be warned.
The blood test was done, and while waiting for the results I received a text message from my daughter. Cloé, her BF’s beautiful, 2 year old German shepherd, had been just been euthanized. Cloé’s disease was very similar to that of Smooch, but was past help, even if she had been sick for a shorter time. (My daughter was full of apologies when she learned where I was and what I was doing when she gave me the terrible news).
But...my vet was smiling when he came back into the room. Not only was my boy’s red blood cell count up by 3.9, the white blood cell count has decreased!!!
“I don’t know what you’re doing right,” he said. “But whatever it is, don’t stop!”
“Massive quantities of liver and Brie!” I grinned back at him. “And B12. So can we start weaning him off the cortisone now?” He shook his head no.
“If it wasn’t for the cortisone, and his good reaction to it in spite of the side effects, your dog would be gone,” he answered firmly. ‘You know the two other dogs that had the same thing? They didn’t make it.”
What?? But they had been diagnosed after my Smooch..... I thought silently.
He paused, and maybe he took my shocked expression for disbelief and wanted to get his point across because he added, “They are both here in the fridge.”
Emotional turmoil. My heart was heavy for Cloé, and the other doggies and owners I don’t even know, but my Smooch was getting better, and the gratitude won out. I cheered him on and sang to him all the way home.
The fight is not over – for the past few days Smooch has suffered severe diarrhea (a left over effect from those damned antibiotics), but pumpkin and rice water and some Imodium are taking care of it. There is a distinct odor of Lysol in my house at the moment, but who cares? Actually, it’s a better smell than the alternative...
It’s a long haul, but whenever I get even a wee bit discouraged I picture strolling in our yard, surrounded by a high, solid fence, while Smooch and Grump gleefully chase their squeaky balls down the grassy hill, and I SMILE.
Sharing that SMILE with y’all!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
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