We had a very scary Saturday. It all started when Daisy let out a yipe when nobody was touching her. Then she did it again a little later. And she was walking a bit carefully, not her usually rompy, frolicking little self.
Then it all hit the fan. She was up on the sofa with us, and she gave another little yipe. DD touched her lightly on the back, and all hell broke loose.
She cried out and kept crying, making her way awkwardly across the couch to me – she always comes to me when she needs comforting.
She tried to sit on my lap but couldn’t get comfortable. She was trembling, whimpering, and couldn’t position herself.
“Call the vet!” I yelled.
DD was on it. You see, I’m good at panicking, DD is good at taking action. After the crisis is over, we both fall apart.
Anyway, our wonderful vet told us to bring her in even though his schedule was packed. He usually closes at 2:00 on Saturdays and he was backed up until at least 3:00, but he still let us come in.
He tested her neck and legs – all fine. Then he pressed along her spine and at one point she screamed.
“It’s her back,” he said. “She has back pain.”
He told us that it’s common for small dogs to get back pain between the ages of 4 and 6 – Daisy is 5. However, it can go either of two ways – either it’ll get better over the course of two MONTHS or it’ll get worse, which would be really bad. I don’t even want to think about that, don’t want to talk about that outcome. It just can’t happen. It just can’t.
He said if her legs start to wobble we have to call him immediately; that would be extremely bad. He wants to see her again on Tuesday morning; it’s never good when a vet wants to do a follow-up in three days.
She can’t go for walks, just a short, slow trip outside to take care of business and then back in again. When we got home and took her out a few hours later, after just a few minutes she had to take a 15 minute break to lie down in the grass. It was heartbreaking.
The vet gave her a shot to help take the edge off the pain and gave us two meds for her, one of which is pretty strong. She was crying when she walked, but once the meds kicked in, she could walk gingerly without constant crying. She whimpers here and there, screeches occasionally, and walks like a cat with its back arched, very slowly and awkwardly. Mostly she’s just lying absolutely motionless for hours, very occasionally looking up at us with big scared eyes.
If I could take the pain from her and put it into myself, I would do it in a heartbeat. It’s so painful to watch such an innocent little pup – or any animal – suffer so much. She doesn’t understand, and she’s scared. Understandably. We’re wrecks, also understandably.
We’re asking our blog buddies for your prayers, positive thoughts, messages to the Universe, or whatever you believe in to pull her through this and let it be something she can recover from and not the worst case scenario.
Because we just couldn’t deal with that.
We’ll keep you updated as the days go by.