I wonder what happened to...

I have often said that if I ever wrote my personal memoir, it would be entitled, "Slight Change of Plans."  Last night was a perfect example.

All week I had been looking forward to Friday night, when I had planned to feed me, feed the dogs, pay some bills while the dogs were eating, and then after the dogs had been taken care of, pop some popcorn and settle in to watch a rented movie.

Feed me - Check.
Feed the dogs - Check.
Pay bills - Check. 
And then, about five minutes after I had paid bills and was working on a little budgeting...

Almondine came upstairs SCREAMING.  She was hunched up in pain, and she looked terrified.  I tend to be a wait-and-see dog owner.  I don't rush to the vet for every little thing, and the Emergency Vet is definitely a last resort.  It was close to 7:00 p.m., and my vet had already closed.

I could not determine any cause for Almondine's agony, and though the initial distress had passed quickly, something felt very wrong to me.  I grabbed my coat, my shoes, her collar and leash, and we were on our way within minutes.  

We made it to the Emergency Vet by 7:00 p.m.  In the lobby were a man with a dog and a woman sitting alone.  The receptionist collected our information, and Almondine was taken to the back for triage.  Shortly thereafter, she was returned to me; her vitals were stable, so she could wait in the lobby with me.  

I talk to my dogs.  A lot.  And when we're in a stressful situation, a lot more.  So I was asking Almondine what was wrong with her and generally chit-chatting to her.  The other woman in the lobby caught my eye and smiled at me.  Laughing I said, "Yeah, I talk to my dogs." She laughed and said, "Oh yeah, I do too!"

She told me that her dog was in the back being stitched up and showed me a photo of her dog's face, which had swollen after being bitten by another dog.  It was nothing too serious, but something that needed immediate care.

One of the staff members came around asking everyone if they wanted water or coffee.  When we declined, he grinned, "Gin and tonic?"  The woman grinned back, "Now you tell me!"

The other dog in the lobby seemed to be in good shape except for sporting a bandage on his leg.  Apparently the bandage needed to come off, but the dog wanted to remove the owner's arm in the process.  Oh!

When we arrived, Almondine seemed almost normal except for some panting and that she wasn't walking normally.  The latter was something that most people probably wouldn't notice unless they were intimately familiar with her usual movement.

The longer we were there, the better she seemed.  I am no animal communicator, but there have been a few isolated instances when I am absolutely positive I have heard what my dog had to say as clearly as any human could communicate.  This was one of those special instances, when Almondine told me she wanted to go home.

She appeared normal to me, and I almost acquiesced.  Instead, I told her, "I do, too, but that we are here now, and we are going to see what the vet has to say, because you scared me, and I need to make sure you are okay."

A couple came in carrying a small dog.  He had been attacked by another dog a few days ago and had suddenly become lethargic, and his injury site was swollen.

A second couple came in with a big dog who had been to another vet several months ago after getting into rat poison in the barn.  The dog had not been "right" since, including a dramatic weight loss, and the people were unhappy with the lack of treatment from the other vet.  

The woman whose dog's face was being stitched smiled at me as she and her dog left.  With a twinkle in my eye, I told her, "Enjoy that gin and tonic."

Finally, we were called into a room.  After another long wait, during which Almondine again asked, "Home?" the vet appeared.  She apologized for the long wait.  I appreciated the apology, as I was getting antsy, though I completely understand that since my dog was stable (thank goodness!) that we were lower priority, and that is perfectly fine.

The vet asked lots of questions, and she complimented me on knowing my dog better than a lot of people do.  

Eventual diagnosis was a suspected neck injury.  Restricted activity and a bevy of meds prescribed.  Follow-up visit in a couple weeks with our vet advised.

As we were paying, one receptionist transferred a phone call, relating that the caller was asking if they should bring in their recently spayed dog whose stitches had all come out and whose "insides were coming out" -- or could they wait until Monday and take her to their regular vet?

Yikes.  

The other receptionist and I looked at each other and said, simultaneously, "Bring her in."

While we were checking out, someone was given instructions for checking out the patient whose dog had to be sedated for bandage removal.  So, it looks like that one is okay.

My last two Emergency Vet experiences have resulted in goodbyes, so I experienced immense relief as I pulled out of the parking lot at 9:15 p.m. with Almondine safely in the van.

But I wondered, what about the poor little lethargic dog-attack victim?  Or the tall, skinny, unwell dog?  Did the recently spayed dog's owner heed the recommendation to bring her in, or did they wait?  Is she going to be okay?  Are any of them going home with their owners this night?

Given the fact that I quickly bond with animals I don't even know, and that I tend to be empathic [empathic, not empathetic] in those situations, it is probably best that the other patients' outcomes remain a mystery to me.  

Still, I wonder what happened to...

Cherish your dogs,
MDW

PS - Almondine seems completely fine today.  She is cuddled up beside me as I finish up this post.  Maybe tonight will be movie night?