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gwynThe past two days have just been so, so awful. I don't have any icons of people sobbing from frustration and pain, but if I did I would use it.
I woke up on Tuesday morning to an overpowering stench in the room, and thinking it was my kitty Olive, who sleeps near my face, I was grumbling about my stinky kitties when I heard Ginny scratching at her crate door, something she never does. She had peed on the rug -- something else she never does -- a couple weeks ago, and so I'd got back in the habit of closing her crate door at night. She loves her crate, is in there most of the time, so she doesn't mind the door being closed, but I'd wanted her to feel more like this was her house and she could move around and had left it open the past few months.
So the stench was coming from her crate -- she was huddled in the only spot in the crate that wasn't covered in shit and puke. She has this weird habit of backing up against something to poop -- a plant, a post, a tree trunk -- and she'd had some kind of massive diarrhea attack and poo was all over the walls of her crate, and in the front was a pile of barf. Of course I let her out and she immediately started shaking poo all over the place. As I leaned down to stop her, I felt my lower back just ripping, and the chronic disk problem I've had just went from bad to horrible.
So I had to clean her up (her spreading shit all over everything I'd just washed), clean up the debris, bathe her, then wash the crate out and sanitize her bedding...it took me over four hours to get everything clean and the crate still smelled like shit. The cats were freaking out because I had to clean things before I could feed them and getting in the way. And I could tell Ginny felt horrible, and she kept cowering down and rolling on to her back, poor kid.
So that wasted most of my day, and after everything was finally finished I bundled her in the car and we went to Dairy Queen for an ice cream because I was so fucking miserable. The smell just took forever to go away, and her poop was still too soft and runny at night and I was worrying about her tummy problems so I put piddle pads everywhere around the house.
Then yesterday on our morning walk (she didn't want to eat her breakfast, and was shaking a bit), she had bloody diarrhea, and I asked the rescue folks if I should take her in. Of course, all this is time I needed to work on the book that's due tomorrow, but they wanted me to take her to the vet they use. After my workout and the chiropractor, where I had a nervous breakdown about all the money I've spent on my back and it's not getting better (worse, in fact, since the past month I've had a whole new back problem that was ruining my life) and I'm so sick of being in pain, I took Ginny to the horrible vet's.
I despise this place. But most of the rescue groups in town go there because they're cheaper and they give discounts, and they're open all the time, and all that. I mean, I HATE this place. It's gross, I can't understand what any of the doctors say because most of them are relatively new English speakers, and it's in a really low-rent neighborhood that brings in lots of people who are really unenlightened about what it means to have pets, and you see some just really awful things. Including, as I was waiting for Ginny, a woman bringing in her dog in a blood-soaked towel screaming about him being run over by a car and help me save my baby and her guts are hanging out.
I am notorious for being a soft heart, and I can't stand any form of animal harm or suffering. I mean, I cannot stand it. I have never seen anything this awful, except maybe the time I was there and a couple were picking up their dog that had been attacked by a coyote and was covered in hundreds and hundreds of stitches and drainage shunts. No, this was more awful. And then the front desk woman took her into a room with the dog, and started telling her up front how much it would cost, and the people in the lobby with me were all just, WTF? Who cares, just save the doggie.
The vet came out and asked if I could come back for Ginny at 7. There was no way I could stand a drive home and back, I was in such screaming agony, so I drove down to the area I grew up in as a teen, to Denny's, and got some dinner, but I felt like barfing the whole time and I was shaking like a leaf. I had tried to help the woman calm down, get her to breathe and focus so she could call her boyfriend, not pass her fear on to the poor little dog. She was covered in blood. It was so, so horrible.
When I finally got back there, I asked the woman at the desk if the dog would make it, and she shook her head. She told me why she had been mentioning cost to her -- I guess this woman has come in before many times, and she's really belligerent and bullying. Not that that made it feel any better, but at least I could see why she had done that up front while they got a doctor from the back area. I just wanted to break down and cry, the stress of all this crap and having a book due and the constant, unending pain, which is so much worse in the car.
Ginny may have a potential adopter that we're meeting on Saturday, which I'm glad about but also bummed because I'll have to miss my writing group, which I love. She's a little better today -- they gave her fluids and some injections which I don't fully understand, but her poo seemed a little better this morning. I have to give her pills, something I always hate doing when you meet a potential adopter because sometimes it freaks them out that they're getting an unhealthy dog. I've had her longer than any other dog I've fostered; I don't understand why, since she's actually pretty adorable and mostly awesome.
And at least I was able to finish the book this morning, but I have to go back through it now and fine tune the edits. It's been hard to concentrate because of the pain. Anyway, like I said, it's been a really, really bad couple of days and I wish I could just sit down with some alcohol, but I have work to do now. If you feel like sending me something happy in comments, I would love that.
I woke up on Tuesday morning to an overpowering stench in the room, and thinking it was my kitty Olive, who sleeps near my face, I was grumbling about my stinky kitties when I heard Ginny scratching at her crate door, something she never does. She had peed on the rug -- something else she never does -- a couple weeks ago, and so I'd got back in the habit of closing her crate door at night. She loves her crate, is in there most of the time, so she doesn't mind the door being closed, but I'd wanted her to feel more like this was her house and she could move around and had left it open the past few months.
So the stench was coming from her crate -- she was huddled in the only spot in the crate that wasn't covered in shit and puke. She has this weird habit of backing up against something to poop -- a plant, a post, a tree trunk -- and she'd had some kind of massive diarrhea attack and poo was all over the walls of her crate, and in the front was a pile of barf. Of course I let her out and she immediately started shaking poo all over the place. As I leaned down to stop her, I felt my lower back just ripping, and the chronic disk problem I've had just went from bad to horrible.
So I had to clean her up (her spreading shit all over everything I'd just washed), clean up the debris, bathe her, then wash the crate out and sanitize her bedding...it took me over four hours to get everything clean and the crate still smelled like shit. The cats were freaking out because I had to clean things before I could feed them and getting in the way. And I could tell Ginny felt horrible, and she kept cowering down and rolling on to her back, poor kid.
So that wasted most of my day, and after everything was finally finished I bundled her in the car and we went to Dairy Queen for an ice cream because I was so fucking miserable. The smell just took forever to go away, and her poop was still too soft and runny at night and I was worrying about her tummy problems so I put piddle pads everywhere around the house.
Then yesterday on our morning walk (she didn't want to eat her breakfast, and was shaking a bit), she had bloody diarrhea, and I asked the rescue folks if I should take her in. Of course, all this is time I needed to work on the book that's due tomorrow, but they wanted me to take her to the vet they use. After my workout and the chiropractor, where I had a nervous breakdown about all the money I've spent on my back and it's not getting better (worse, in fact, since the past month I've had a whole new back problem that was ruining my life) and I'm so sick of being in pain, I took Ginny to the horrible vet's.
I despise this place. But most of the rescue groups in town go there because they're cheaper and they give discounts, and they're open all the time, and all that. I mean, I HATE this place. It's gross, I can't understand what any of the doctors say because most of them are relatively new English speakers, and it's in a really low-rent neighborhood that brings in lots of people who are really unenlightened about what it means to have pets, and you see some just really awful things. Including, as I was waiting for Ginny, a woman bringing in her dog in a blood-soaked towel screaming about him being run over by a car and help me save my baby and her guts are hanging out.
I am notorious for being a soft heart, and I can't stand any form of animal harm or suffering. I mean, I cannot stand it. I have never seen anything this awful, except maybe the time I was there and a couple were picking up their dog that had been attacked by a coyote and was covered in hundreds and hundreds of stitches and drainage shunts. No, this was more awful. And then the front desk woman took her into a room with the dog, and started telling her up front how much it would cost, and the people in the lobby with me were all just, WTF? Who cares, just save the doggie.
The vet came out and asked if I could come back for Ginny at 7. There was no way I could stand a drive home and back, I was in such screaming agony, so I drove down to the area I grew up in as a teen, to Denny's, and got some dinner, but I felt like barfing the whole time and I was shaking like a leaf. I had tried to help the woman calm down, get her to breathe and focus so she could call her boyfriend, not pass her fear on to the poor little dog. She was covered in blood. It was so, so horrible.
When I finally got back there, I asked the woman at the desk if the dog would make it, and she shook her head. She told me why she had been mentioning cost to her -- I guess this woman has come in before many times, and she's really belligerent and bullying. Not that that made it feel any better, but at least I could see why she had done that up front while they got a doctor from the back area. I just wanted to break down and cry, the stress of all this crap and having a book due and the constant, unending pain, which is so much worse in the car.
Ginny may have a potential adopter that we're meeting on Saturday, which I'm glad about but also bummed because I'll have to miss my writing group, which I love. She's a little better today -- they gave her fluids and some injections which I don't fully understand, but her poo seemed a little better this morning. I have to give her pills, something I always hate doing when you meet a potential adopter because sometimes it freaks them out that they're getting an unhealthy dog. I've had her longer than any other dog I've fostered; I don't understand why, since she's actually pretty adorable and mostly awesome.
And at least I was able to finish the book this morning, but I have to go back through it now and fine tune the edits. It's been hard to concentrate because of the pain. Anyway, like I said, it's been a really, really bad couple of days and I wish I could just sit down with some alcohol, but I have work to do now. If you feel like sending me something happy in comments, I would love that.
