Drawn to a Close...
Deer season is now over for me, and I have to say that I'm a little sad because I didn't get to shoot my fancy new gun at anything. I contemplated taking out a squirrel or two, or maybe a road sign on the way home, but my redneckedness only goes so far.
Davey shot his first deer this year, on Saturday while we were all out together. Dixie, my wonderous Little Muppy, brought the deer to him just as she is supposed to do. I have to say that I'm more than a little pissed that she didn't bring the deer to me, because she is after all MY DAMN DOG. He hit the deer with a perfect shot, right where all the experts say you're supposed to hit it. We ended up having to track it for a period of time through brush and prickly ash that tried to take both the eyes right out of my head a large number of times.
While we were out with Dixie, I noticed that she was peeing quite frequently, a sign that is not a good one because in 2003, Dixie almost died from having bladder stones. Several hundred dollars later, she was restored to her chipper old self. She wasn't acting like herself yesterday, and today when she came home from hunting, she laid on the couch with me feeling quite feverish and looking very pouty.
I'm taking her to a vet tomorrow to see what they can do. The surgery will cost over a thousand dollars, and while I really can't put a price on my love for Dixie, I can't make a thousand dollars spring from my ear next Tuesday, either.
I'm very scared at this point in time because if the condition is worse than it was last time, there may be nothing we can do. I fear that it has gone to her kidneys because she has an odd swelling on her back. It could just be backfat, because she is a bit of a pudgy little beagle, but I'm scared that it indicates something much more serious.
My irrational self wants to sell a lobe of my liver on the black market and fly her to some fancy schmancy surgical unit like they do on the Discovery Channel. My more rational self knows that this just isn't possible.
As soon as we get to a vet, we'll have more information to work with. I wait with baited breath until then.
Davey shot his first deer this year, on Saturday while we were all out together. Dixie, my wonderous Little Muppy, brought the deer to him just as she is supposed to do. I have to say that I'm more than a little pissed that she didn't bring the deer to me, because she is after all MY DAMN DOG. He hit the deer with a perfect shot, right where all the experts say you're supposed to hit it. We ended up having to track it for a period of time through brush and prickly ash that tried to take both the eyes right out of my head a large number of times.
While we were out with Dixie, I noticed that she was peeing quite frequently, a sign that is not a good one because in 2003, Dixie almost died from having bladder stones. Several hundred dollars later, she was restored to her chipper old self. She wasn't acting like herself yesterday, and today when she came home from hunting, she laid on the couch with me feeling quite feverish and looking very pouty.
I'm taking her to a vet tomorrow to see what they can do. The surgery will cost over a thousand dollars, and while I really can't put a price on my love for Dixie, I can't make a thousand dollars spring from my ear next Tuesday, either.
I'm very scared at this point in time because if the condition is worse than it was last time, there may be nothing we can do. I fear that it has gone to her kidneys because she has an odd swelling on her back. It could just be backfat, because she is a bit of a pudgy little beagle, but I'm scared that it indicates something much more serious.
My irrational self wants to sell a lobe of my liver on the black market and fly her to some fancy schmancy surgical unit like they do on the Discovery Channel. My more rational self knows that this just isn't possible.
As soon as we get to a vet, we'll have more information to work with. I wait with baited breath until then.
Labels: Deer Hunting, Rednecks, Sickness
posted by Amanda at 21:16
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