May 31, 2013




I don’t know if I have good news or not.

I went to bed last . . . er . . . this morning at a little short of 7 a.m.  Sic.  But I wanted to get Chaos frelling stabilised and I knew I wasn’t going to sleep anyway if he wasn’t so I might as well go on playing stupid games on my iPad*.

But he actually had a long drink on his own four feet out of the water bowl at about 6:30 and I thought GREAT I am going to BED.**

About four and a half hours later ( . . . moan) when I came downstairs again he was glassy-eyed and limp, flopped in the dog bed like a piece of trash someone had thrown down.  I hastily started the squirting protocol again thinking that the round the clock thing is a major ratbag for anyone who’s trying to do it alone . . . not that this is news, and I can hear hollow laughter from some of my readers, but stuff that is in your face right now is . . . well, it’s in your tired, heavy-lidded face right now.

Pretty much the first thing he did after the glint returned to his eye and he was inhabiting his body again was . . . go outdoors and geyser.


But he was still clearly better in himself than he’d been yesterday*** so I dithered for a while and eventually rang the vet.  When she finally rang me back† she gave no impression of a woman in a hurry stooping to do an importunate client a favour, but talked me through exactly what was going on and agreeing that I could keep him home one more day . . . but if he is not SIGNIFICANTLY better tomorrow, he’s still going in to critter hospital.

He didn’t eat lunch of course but neither did Darkness (sigh).  And he’ll still swallow when I squirt††, spoon or smear things into/on him†††.  I’ve also settled on a couple of homeopathic remedies—one the basic for fluid loss, one pertaining to the specifics of the situation which I will spare you—which I’m pretty sure are helping.‡  But it’s more stuff to pry his mouth open for.  Poor Chaos.

He was still geysering on his two-minute afternoon hurtle.  The vet said that given how bad an episode he’s had it’s going to take at least several days to settle down but by the end of today there should be some thickening going on.  Well.  Um.  Maybe.  Minimally.

And then all suddenly . . . he wanted dinner.  He came out of the dog bed and begged for scraps with Darkness.  And when I gave him his stock-and-meat-mush he ate it right up. . . .

Darkness didn’t eat his dinner.  MOAN.  And while I’d be on tenterhooks anyway because this is the first (semi) solid food Chaos has had in three days . . . Peter and I have another overnight [human] guest and my mind was not totally on critters, and while I wasn’t looking he nailed most of Darkness’.  I had NO intention of letting him eat that much, nor any kibble at all, till tomorrow earliest.  MOOOOOOAAAAAAN.

So I’m waiting anxiously to see what happens.  He has spent way too much of this evening awake—dogs are supposed to SLEEP after meals—and I fear what this may mean.  We did go out for a geyser about an hour ago, but it was quite a little geyser, several hours after dinner, so that illegal food is not all rushing through him.  I’m hoping that at least some of it is getting, you know, digested.

He’s crashed out now.  Looking perfectly content, although the sticky-outness of those ribs belies this rather.  And what the freaking hell is Darkness up to?  He’s still losing weight, he’s just less acute, at the minute, than Chaos.  Whimper.  I have one meal left today with which hellhounds and I can torture each other.  At least I seem to have an on-the-job vet.

* * *

* I’ve tried a couple more unsatisfactory word games.  There’s one that tells you what words you’re supposed to find on the grid and . . . why?  Ugh.  I know I’m playing games because I have no brain and I need distraction, but that’s a step too far into zombie territory for me.  And then there’s one that keeps a little list of the words you do find and when your time runs out presents you with a much longer list of the words you could have found.  First couple of games I thought, oh well, I’m generally no frelling good at games anyway, no big.  And then I happened to let my eye linger on one of the lists and discovered (a) you CAN’T find all the words in the list because some of them require you to skip over grid squares in a way that playing the game specifically disallows and (b) they have a somewhat CREATIVE view of the English language.^

Has anyone played About Love, Hate and the other ones?  I’m attracted to the notion of an ‘undo’ button.

^ Although even the satisfactory ones can be a trifle whimsical.  Word Abacus mostly accepts proper names but it doesn’t take Gail.  Or Doug.  And it takes some pretty borderline non-English words like père.  But it doesn’t take séance.  What?  I was really proud of séance.

** Outrage among hellhounds that they weren’t allowed to come upstairs and sleep in my office while I take my bath.  Which they usually do, except when I’m worried about what one of them may do all over the carpet when I’m running water and don’t hear him.

*** I’d run out of honey at the cottage—sacrilege, I know, but these things happen—so I’d lifted his lip and sprinkled a little of the Organic Raw Sugar^ that I use in my tea on his gum.  That got him going, that I was insulting him with SUGAR.

^ It’s still bad for you, it’s just bad for you in a straightforward way with no dependent clauses.

† By which time I was out with Darkness, who took standing around twenty minutes on a street corner as all part of the current weirdness of being hurtled by himself.

†† Any of you in a position to have to squirt a critter:  you know that you don’t literally squirt it down their throats, right?  Because you run the risk of getting it in their lungs which can cause an extremely nasty infection.  Cats’ faces are so much flatter, and they’re so much likelier to bite, I’ve found squirting them rather challenging upon occasion.  But a dog is easy, so long as he swallows, you’ve got that little pouch of skin at the corners of dogs’ (comparatively) long narrow mouths.  This would still be true of the hellterror.  Dunno about the really crushed-in face dogs, like Pekes and pugs.

††† Darkness will clean up errors in honey aim

‡ But an acute like this, the ‘picture’ can change really fast—faster than I can keep up with.


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