My dear little dog Rose, a British Staffordshire Bull Terrier who has been my constant companion for twelve years since the times I carried her on walks as a tiny puppy in a baby sling has just endured her first physical pain.
She’s been acting slightly off for about two weeks, still eagerly hiking but without her usual long-distance stamina, and when she stopped eating, I decided to take her to the vet—she always has a voracious appetite.
We went in forty-eight hours ago, and the extremely competent and empathetic vet, Dr. Smith, put her though a series of blood tests and x-rays that showed she had seven small black pebbles lodged in her stomach.
I’ve never known a dog to eat pebbles and wonder if other people have had this experience.
Rose couldn’t eliminate the pebbles due to a blockage, perhaps scar tissue, in her intestine, which accounted for her distress; Dr. Smith operated around midnight and took out the pebbles (I have them in a plastic bag), then sewed Rose up and put her on painkillers and antibiotics. She submitted to all this with the casual grace and ease that are her most significant characteristics.
I brought her home last night, with detailed instructions about food and care. Almost at once, she began a heart-whimpering, heaving and gasping; I burst into tears. I have never seen her in pain before.
I rushed her back to Dr. Smith who, again in the late dark cold hours of the night, took more x-rays, drew blood, and decided that nothing too serious was wrong. She gave her additional pain medication, and loaded her into my car—she’s not allowed to jump in on her own, as she always does.
About two A.M., Rose began to whimper and whimpered for about two hours as I tried to soothe her, from bed, with words. Finally I drew on many years of dog and baby training (the owner and the mother must have their sleep) and told her to stop whimpering.
She stopped, immediately, as she stopped at three months when, a lonely puppy, she slept under my bed.
And this morning, by a miracle, she is eighty percent herself, ravenously hungry (I can only give her meatball sized portions), eager to go out and lie in the sun as she always does at this time of day and this time of years.
We are blessed.
Ah, Sallie, love this and that Rose pulled thru. So lovely and touching.
The tenderness is palpable. Here’s to Rose and wise, loving owner.
Empathy, you both hang in there!
<3
You are both blessed and a blessing… I still have my Sans Foyer book
That’s a shame !
Oh, I’m glad the worst is over. Poor Rose, poor Mama….
Sally, I do know a dog who eats pebbles. . . . lots of them! She always does it on a walk. Seems to be an attention-getting behavior. She’s never gotten sick from them, but we watch her nonetheless and try to make her put them down or grab them out of her mouth before she swallows them. And she always swallows them!
Beautiful!
Dear Friends who responded to Rose’s plight….And Hollis, your dog, too, eats pebbles–but can she pass them? Rose’s problem was that an obstruction in her intestine was keeping the pebbles in. Latest report: she is “wan”–that’s what she would be, if she was human–sad, slow, as though something terrible has been revealed to her–her frailty? The things humans do to her? But today she STRETCHED for the first time and I think the stitches are healing/ Thank you all for your much needed support. Sallie