So I was ambling along in this A-Z blog challenge, quietly posting a letter a day (or so), and then on Friday afternoon someone left the door to the master bedroom suite open. I keep the dog and the cat separated because the dog is part terrier and thinks the cat is just a feisty squirrel. Ordinarily when he gets into the bedroom, he excitedly looks for the cat and barks at her when he finds her, which I think must be terribly annoying to the cat, and so I was hoping one day she would beat up the dog and he’d learn his lesson.
Well, on Friday she did beat him up. I only first knew he’d gotten into the bedroom when I heard him barking frantically in pain and anger, and I knew that this time he’d learned his lesson. Unfortunately for both him and me, it was worse than I feared. She had scratched him right in the eyeball … left a half-inch, L-shaped gash in his cornea. (Huh … I should check and see if it happened on “L” day!)
Two hours later (and after-hours on a Friday, of course), he was being examined by a specialty Animal Eye Clinic a half hour from our house, and two hours after that, he was in surgery to get the wound stitched up. Poor guy.
I was faced with the horrible decision of whether to let the dog go blind in one eye just because of money, or whether to go further into debt for the chance to save his eye.
I chose debt.
It’s been an interesting process. I’ve learned things about the eye … things that make me just a little bit less inclined to flinch around needles and scissors. The eye is pretty tough, kind of, I guess. The surgery was optional, but the doc told me afterward that the wound was so unstable that a sudden movement could have caused it to rupture, which would have been a very bad thing. And would probably have had its own expense, perhaps long-term.
He’s been a pretty good boy about the whole thing, of course he hates it all and tries to avoid me when I have the dropper in my hand, but if he’s secured he’s okay with the drops and the treatment, although he’s perfected the “miserable” look. And he’s getting a whole lot of ham. God must have made ham for sick puppies. I can stick anything inside a chunk of ham and he swallows it down in one gulp. No trying to massage a pill down his throat or stick a syringe in his mouth. Slice a little pocket into a cube of ham, insert medicine, and it all goes down easily.
In any case, I quite forgot about the alphabet for quite a few days.
I will post the rest here.