Tonight, Molly got her stitches removed (staples, actually), and the Doc reports everything is just fine with her.

He believes that he understands why her legs are a little weird right now, and that it may take a couple of weeks for them to get back to normal. Her progress so far is very encouraging to him, so for now, I’d say that her prognosis looks good for being a normal dog again.

Woo hoo!

In the mail today was a nice card from the vet’s office, offering their condolences on the loss of LC Saturday. Of course, that brought the tears to Beck’s eyes, but it was definitely appreciated.

It’s kinda weird not having the little gray one running around the house. So weird, in fact, that Beck and I both thought we heard her mewing outside on Sunday. Upon hearing that, one of Beck’s co-workers told her that LC hadn’t left yet — the body was gone, but the spirit was still there. That may be, but I’d rather attribute what we heard to some animal outside!

Yesterday was a bad day for us: LC crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

She’d been having problems for quite a while, and the vet finally narrowed it down to kidney failure. Thursday, Beck stayed home, and let LC play outside all day. Friday night, we gave her some special treats — a little steak, some wet food — and let her have the run of the basement for the night.

LC was Beck’s cat — no doubt about it — and Beck had had her since just after she moved out of her parents’ house. She was a cute, sometimes cantankerous little ball of grey and white fur. But, she had a very full ten years of life, and that’s nothing to be sad about.

I am gonna miss her though. I think this’ll be the first time since I was about seven years old that I haven’t had a cat in my life. I’m not itching to have another one real soon, but there is a palpable difference in the house with LC gone. That loss is the “big gray elephant” in the house right now — everyone knows that the loss is there, but no one’s talking about it.

Fortunately, Molly’s health is returning, and Beck can focus on that to help her through this. Me, well, I’ll just keep writing I guess.

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Finally, Molly is back to her typical attitude and behavior. It’s taken a while to get the strong sedatives out of her system, and it’s nice having her back to normal.

She is still having a little bit of a problem with her back end. When she tries to run (which she’s not supposed to do!), one of her legs is “stiff legged” like it won’t bend. It bends just fine when she walks, so I’m hoping she’ll figure it out when she runs too.

She’s been sleeping on our bed again, and that’s a comfort. She tries to take up the whole bed, but that’s ok by me!

Tonight, we brought Molly home from the hospital. Overall, I’d say she’s doing well, although she’s exhibiting some problems with walking — her hindquarters almost seem stiffened, which makes her walk like her back legs won’t bend. The doc thinks that it’s not a complication from her sugery, and might just be the drugs they’ve had her on. She’s been given sedatives to calm her down — she’s not a big fan of being in a cage, and she was overly restless given what she’d just been through.

When they brought her in the exam room for us, she whimpered and whimpered. I sat in the floor with her, and she finally curled up sorta on my lap, and started to fall asleep. On the ride home, Beck and her sat in the back seat of the truck, and Molly leaned up against Beck and fell asleep. In fact, she had several really hard sleeps tonight. It kinda backs up the sedative theory.

It’s wonderful having her back in the house, despite her smelling a little icky, and being exhausted from the experience. I can’t think of anything nearly as comforting as listening to her snore while she sleeps on the floor.

The pack is definitely whole again.

Beck and I went to see Molly this morning. She walked into the examination room, and you couldn’t imagine the relief I felt.

To see her walk in, waggling and happy, was a shock. I was expecting to have to visit her in a pen. Her being so mobile was a joy to me. And now we’re being told that we will be able to pick her up tomorrow night. That is amazing to me.

She’ll be keeping quiet for a week or so, but after that, it’s business as usual for Molly. I’m thrilled!

Beck called the hospital a little bit ago, and they said Molly was standing up, and wagging her tail. That’s terrific news!

We’ll go down later today to see her, take her some pumpkin for inclusion in her dinner, and let her know everything’s ok.

Tonight, we came perilously close to losing Molly.

The girls had a grooming appointment this morning, and spent their day getting bathed, clipped and made beautiful. When they’re taking a trip to the groomer, I don’t feed them in the morning. Emma gets amazingly carsick sometimes, and it’s just easier if you’re not gonna feed one, to delay feeding them both. I got the call that they were ready, and picked them up around 5pm. Molly was as bouncy as could be, happy to see me, and ready to get home to dinner.

By 6pm, things had turned very grim. She was in the yard, trying to vomit, and couldn’t. In fact, she acted like she could get anything out of her body from either end. And I could tell by the way she was moving that she was incredibly uncomfortable. Then I felt her stomach, and it felt very full and hard. I knew I hadn’t fed her, so that was obviously wrong. I ran through the house to see if there was something obvious she’d gotten into — no luck — while Beck got on the phone with the animal hospital. They told us to bring her in, and Beck headed to the hospital with her.

The downside to this was that I had a scheduled work bridge call at 7pm. I felt like a real heel staying here for that, but what could I do? I was asked on the call if we needed to get someone else on the call to cover for me (thanks Gene!), but how can I justify delaying work progress on account of my dog? I mean, for me, that’s absolutely the right answer — she’s family to me — but not everyone views pets that way. And frankly, the dozen folks on the bridge call gave up their family time to be on that call on a Saturday night. I don’t feel like I could be the cause of delaying that for an hour while trying to find someone else to cover for me and getting them up to speed with what we’re trying to do. Surely it’s not in the company’s best interest to tolerate delays because someone’s dog is sick.

Harriet (another Berner owner) sent me an e-mail while I was on the bridge call to let me know that Beck had arrived at the hospital, and that she was heading down to the hospital to be with her. I got off the bridge around 7:30, and talked to Beck before heading out. It was just then that the doc came in to tell Beck what the diagnosis was: gastric dilatation and volvulus, which is commonly called bloat. Basically, her stomach had twisted 180 degrees and was full of gas. This is something that just happens to big breeds, with no real explanation, and no real solution aside from rapid diagnosis and surgery. You see, in just a few hours, the dog can go from showing no symptoms to being dead from this.

They were prepping her for surgery and would be started before I could get there. They would have to expel the gas from the stomach, and then untwist her stomach. The danger here is that there could be signficant damage to the stomach and spleen that can require the removal of part of the stomach or the whole spleen. This is very, very serious condition.

I started setting the road on fire between here and Kirkwood and arrived at the hospital. Harriet, Beck and I sat and waited. And waited. And waited. It seemed like an eternity until we got our first progress report on the work being done. One of the folks there came out and gave us the news that Molly had come through the surgery well, and there was no signs of distress in the spleen or stomach. Her prognosis was looking good, and when the surgeon was done, she’d come out and tell us the details. Needless to say, that was a huge relief!

We asked if we’d be able to see her a little later, and the tech we were talking thought we probably wouldn’t. He told us that they give the dogs pretty strong hallucinaginics, and sometimes they snap at things that aren’t really there, which of course gave all of us a very much needed laugh. Molly can be pretty dingy sometimes, and I could just see her trying to grab invisible butterflies in the air!

The surgeon later came out and explained what she’d seen in surgery, and basically she felt like Molly would recover completely after some recovery time, including being in the hospital a few days. There was nothing else for us to do, so the doc asked if we wanted to say goodnight to her. Well of course we did! She took us back to her recover area, and laid on a mat was Molly, with tubes flowing in and out of her. She had no idea we were there, but it was good for both of us to see her, scratch her muzzle, and know she was doing well.

Things could have ended up so very different. We were supposed to go to Chicago this weekend to visit with friends. The only reason we didn’t was because Beck’s been a little under the weather. Had we done that, Molly would likely have been found dead in her kennel at the boarders or when the housesitter came back from their day job. Even had Beck and gone to dinner, Molly would probably have been gone by the time we got back. We were just that close to losing her tonight.

So what did you do today? I saved my dog’s life tonight, and I’m feeling pretty good about that.

$2.579

This has been a tough week. Work’s been demanding the last couple of weeks, but that’s nothing new. However, this is the week the holds both the anniversary of Dad’s death, and just three days later, his birthday.

Today, he would’ve been 65.

This morning, we had a low fog bank, with all kinds of color in the sky as the sun came up, transitioning from the early reds in the clouds of fog to bright yellows as the sun climbed. It was very reminiscent of a morning on the mountain, and very fitting for Dad’s birthday.

Dad showed me a lot of things when he was here. I think the thing that I’ve tried to reflect the most, especially of late, is his love of life, and his willingness to let the bad stuff just dissipate. From my view, he was a master of both, enjoying as much life as he wanted, and letting as much of the bad slide away as he could. I think that’s a good recipe for life, and I’m trying hard to make that happen for me.

I’ve found myself reflecting on Dad’s sense of humor lately. I think that’s probably one of the things he was best known for. He could disarm an angry customer, and I don’t think he ever met a stranger. That’s something I always admired, and something I’m starting to see in myself. That’s another good lesson Dad taught me, I suppose.

Happy birthday, Dad.

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Today is the third anniversary of Dad’s death, and it’s on this day, and many others like it, when the sense of loss is as profound as on the day I stood by his side as the Lord took him.

Being away from The Mountain, and not being reminded constantly of his being gone, I occassionally lapse into forgetting that I can’t just call him up and talk. That’s been the toughest part of the last three years for me, I think. I know this is a tough day for Kevin and Mom both.

I’m thinking of you, Dad, and remembering….