Do Something
Comes the call to save a life.
A last resort for a pup, sick and dying.
The small fragile body laid still by fate.
The cause for this we know,
but ignorance and poverty get a pass.
Needles, for fluids, Needles for drugs
Warming the bed, for peaceful sleep,
Time stops with each breath.
I die each time you sigh.
Vacant eyes, mine with tears,
Breathing life to you as I cradle your head in my palm.
You sleep, I nod
This floor is my bed
Im here by your side.
Hours become days
Your head no longer lays still
I hold you in my arms
Today you drank and ate
I danced around the room
Tomorrow we dance together.
Deciding to rescue dogs was an impulse decision for me, because I knew my ability and passion could withstand it. There were SO Many times I threatened to stop. That was usually after a painful loss of some beautiful dog that cruel society had abandoned.
Deciding to rescue the most unwanted dogs, the ones that were close to death, the ones that were sick, THIS I learned was my calling.
Anyone can rescue a healthy dog and find it a home. To me this was NOT rescue, unless the dogs life was threatened by an over-populated shelter.
More than a decade I've given myself to finding and caring for those dogs most needy.
I've been lucky to have the support of the most dear and giving community.
A few times, I've had to endure hateful and unkind accusations from other rescuers, but I, fortunately for them, can understand jealous narcissistic behavior, and I dismiss it.
After all, my focus is the dogs.
I've learned to let my reputation and rescue record, speak for me.
Still, I endure comments that darken events that should always be celebrated.
I took in Miss Muffin a few days ago.
A small fragile Shepherd Mix pup, just 6 to 8 wks old.
Her brother Tucker had been adopted already.
Tuckers new humans left him with an emergency vet where he was diagnosed with Parvo.
Muffin got sick at the same time, but she didn't have someone with money to save her.
On her way to the exam room where she'd be set free to Rainbows Bridge, I got the Call.
When I arrived at the shelter to get her, she was laying unresponsive in a crate on the floor.
There was an actual Cat sitting next to her, IN THE CRATE, keeping her company.
(Thank You Sweet Kitty)
I gave Muffin her first shot of Cerenia, to stop the vomiting, in the car outside the shelter.
I set her crate on our dining room table.
I heated the bag of Sodium Chloride, I heated the Pedialyte.
Now began round the clock care.
Every 90 mins to 2 hrs, she would get sub_q fluids and I would feed her 9 to 12 ml of Pedialyte.
Each day she would get another shot of Cerenia, until I knew she could keep a pill down, and then the shots would stop.
The first night, I sat there and watched her breathe. Her breathing was so labored. She was emaciated to the point of skin on bone. Her gums were as white and dry as cotton. Her eyes were sunken and lifeless. I'd hold her head and cry.
I'd leave her side long enough to reheat the microwave heating bag I put under her blanket.
Today is Tues. I had forgotten what day it was. I did get a shower yesterday, and sweet Steve ordered pizza last night, probably because he didn't want ME touching his food.
The house smells like parvo shit. For those of you who've never smelled it, be grateful. For those of you that have... you know what I'm saying. My days have become a loop of tears and dry heaving.
My other dogs know somethings wrong, I can tell, by their constant touching of paws and noses on my leg. Its hard for everyone when there's a dying baby in the house.
Because I'm aware of the need for updates, I take a bazillion pics of Muffin, so I can find that "one", that doesn't have shit or blood in it. Preferably one that shows the sweet puppy I'm caring for, so when I post that pupdate, it will be positive and encouraging, because the gods know, I need positive encouragement right now. I only post the good pics. I don't publicly share those that show the pain and collapse of such a devastating illness. According to my updates, all is well and Muffin is recovering. Nobody sees or hears about the setbacks. I guess its my fault then that her sickness and recovery is perceived as minor compared to her brothers. Perhaps its the amount of money spent on her brother that makes his illness more real. I just know this. Several times the breath that rose in Muffin, left her, and I'd turn to Death, sitting beside me, and tell him he won.
Muffin made the decision to stay. There was nothing more I could have done for her.
I'm mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted, I actually wrote on Muffins chart a reminder to take my own pills.
Yesterday I got the notice that Tucker had died. Muffins little brother, at the Vet Hospital, didn't make it. His family must be devastated. My heart goes out to them, but now my anxiety levels just tripled. The only difference in treatment for him was a Full Staff.
That right, I've done this A LOT. Muffin isn't the 1st parvo puppy I've treated, since I figured out what it is that actually kills them.
I'll admit, I won't give her the all clear until she shits a solid turd, but right now, I'm pretty confident she'll pull thru. Today is the 4th day since she fell ill. I'd like to Shout out, "WE DID IT", but like so many have repeatedly told me, "She must've not been as sick as her brother". I guess I just got lucky.
After All, I'm not a Veterinarian, I'm just a Rescuer.
You sleep, I nod
This floor is my bed
Im here by your side.
Hours become days
Your head no longer lays still
I hold you in my arms
Today you drank and ate
I danced around the room
Tomorrow we dance together.
Deciding to rescue dogs was an impulse decision for me, because I knew my ability and passion could withstand it. There were SO Many times I threatened to stop. That was usually after a painful loss of some beautiful dog that cruel society had abandoned.
Deciding to rescue the most unwanted dogs, the ones that were close to death, the ones that were sick, THIS I learned was my calling.
Anyone can rescue a healthy dog and find it a home. To me this was NOT rescue, unless the dogs life was threatened by an over-populated shelter.
More than a decade I've given myself to finding and caring for those dogs most needy.
I've been lucky to have the support of the most dear and giving community.
A few times, I've had to endure hateful and unkind accusations from other rescuers, but I, fortunately for them, can understand jealous narcissistic behavior, and I dismiss it.
After all, my focus is the dogs.
I've learned to let my reputation and rescue record, speak for me.
Still, I endure comments that darken events that should always be celebrated.
I took in Miss Muffin a few days ago.
A small fragile Shepherd Mix pup, just 6 to 8 wks old.
Her brother Tucker had been adopted already.
Tuckers new humans left him with an emergency vet where he was diagnosed with Parvo.
Muffin got sick at the same time, but she didn't have someone with money to save her.
On her way to the exam room where she'd be set free to Rainbows Bridge, I got the Call.
When I arrived at the shelter to get her, she was laying unresponsive in a crate on the floor.
There was an actual Cat sitting next to her, IN THE CRATE, keeping her company.
(Thank You Sweet Kitty)
I gave Muffin her first shot of Cerenia, to stop the vomiting, in the car outside the shelter.
I set her crate on our dining room table.
I heated the bag of Sodium Chloride, I heated the Pedialyte.
Now began round the clock care.
Every 90 mins to 2 hrs, she would get sub_q fluids and I would feed her 9 to 12 ml of Pedialyte.
Each day she would get another shot of Cerenia, until I knew she could keep a pill down, and then the shots would stop.
The first night, I sat there and watched her breathe. Her breathing was so labored. She was emaciated to the point of skin on bone. Her gums were as white and dry as cotton. Her eyes were sunken and lifeless. I'd hold her head and cry.
I'd leave her side long enough to reheat the microwave heating bag I put under her blanket.
Today is Tues. I had forgotten what day it was. I did get a shower yesterday, and sweet Steve ordered pizza last night, probably because he didn't want ME touching his food.
The house smells like parvo shit. For those of you who've never smelled it, be grateful. For those of you that have... you know what I'm saying. My days have become a loop of tears and dry heaving.
My other dogs know somethings wrong, I can tell, by their constant touching of paws and noses on my leg. Its hard for everyone when there's a dying baby in the house.
Because I'm aware of the need for updates, I take a bazillion pics of Muffin, so I can find that "one", that doesn't have shit or blood in it. Preferably one that shows the sweet puppy I'm caring for, so when I post that pupdate, it will be positive and encouraging, because the gods know, I need positive encouragement right now. I only post the good pics. I don't publicly share those that show the pain and collapse of such a devastating illness. According to my updates, all is well and Muffin is recovering. Nobody sees or hears about the setbacks. I guess its my fault then that her sickness and recovery is perceived as minor compared to her brothers. Perhaps its the amount of money spent on her brother that makes his illness more real. I just know this. Several times the breath that rose in Muffin, left her, and I'd turn to Death, sitting beside me, and tell him he won.
Muffin made the decision to stay. There was nothing more I could have done for her.
I'm mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted, I actually wrote on Muffins chart a reminder to take my own pills.
Yesterday I got the notice that Tucker had died. Muffins little brother, at the Vet Hospital, didn't make it. His family must be devastated. My heart goes out to them, but now my anxiety levels just tripled. The only difference in treatment for him was a Full Staff.
That right, I've done this A LOT. Muffin isn't the 1st parvo puppy I've treated, since I figured out what it is that actually kills them.
I'll admit, I won't give her the all clear until she shits a solid turd, but right now, I'm pretty confident she'll pull thru. Today is the 4th day since she fell ill. I'd like to Shout out, "WE DID IT", but like so many have repeatedly told me, "She must've not been as sick as her brother". I guess I just got lucky.
After All, I'm not a Veterinarian, I'm just a Rescuer.
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