Diffused Rays

A few days after our visit to Marin, the vet called. The radiologist agreed with most of his assumptions, however, other problems had come to light.

Elliot’s white blood cells showed he had allergies or parasites. I had dropped a fecal sample of at my regular vet’s, and Elliot did not have worms or parasites. That left allergies. They also found an old fracture where Elliot’s sacroiliac joined his pelvis, which did seem to be stable.

Okay, now we aren’t talking surgery, but there appears to be an abundance of problems. I begin to wonder whether Elliot had been hit by a car, What was his life like before he went to the shelter?

Though sweet and loving, he is also skittish. Loud sounds frighten him: The slamming of the refrigerator door, heavy footsteps, a dropped pan, and he is petrified by the broom.

On the other hand he is connecting with me and Bill. He sits for hours at Bill’s feet in the den and follows me around the house and out to the back yard. Mornings he runs from one side of the bed to the other waking us both up.

He loves his walks through the neighborhood, trips to the park, and riding in the car, but is easily distracted by people, dogs, cats, birds or dropping leaves. He plays in the kennel, where some of the neighborhood dogs visit him through the fence. They are not as friendly when he is loose. However, I am having a fence built so there will be more room for running, playing, and visiting. If only his health would improve.

A Ray Of Light

It was time to visit the Marin vet. Elliot and I left home at 6:30 a.m., and drove to Mill Valley, Elliot lying quietly in the back seat. In Petaluma we hit traffic. I don’t know why I imagined no one would be on the road that early. As we crept along, I began stressing. Elliot was still perfectly happy alternating between stretched out and head hanging out the window. What do dogs know about time?

My eyes shifting from the road to the clock, I estimated my chance of making my 8:30 appointment. It didn’t seem promising. Yet somehow we managed to arrive.

As I struggled with Elliot, the x-rays, and my purse filled with all Elliot’s information, a man approached offering help; I handed him Elliot’s leash and followed him into the clinic where I discovered he was the vet.

I checked in, left Elliot, headed for downtown Mill Valley, ate breakfast and hung out until 3:30, when I was due back at the clinic for a conference with the vet.

When I returned, he ushered me into a back room, set up new x-rays and told me Elliot had spit up something pink, and there were some problems with the sedation. They had to reverse the process. He thought Elliot might have worms. Bummer. What next?

However, as he explained the x-rays, he offered a ray of hope. Elliot’s elbows were inflamed, but he did not believe surgery was necessary. He would give him anti-inflammatory medication and would check him again in 21 days. He also questioned the need for hip surgery. He would confer with my regular vet, with whom I was to check about the worms. He would send the x-rays to a radiologist that evening and get back to me with the results.

I drove home with a lighter heart. There was a glimmer of sun on the horizon.

And, Darker Clouds

Following the vet’s recommendation, I dropped Elliot off for x-rays the day
after his diagnosis. Although I know x-rays can’t hurt, I am always worried about sedation. I returned home and sat near the phone waiting for the call to tell me I could pick him up. By 3:00 I called them. Relief! I could pick him up at 5:00.

When I arrived, the Vet went over the x-rays with me, showed me what was wrong, explained how the joints and bones should look, using models to demonstrate.
Then he explained what was required.

I told him I was willing to do everything necessary to save this dog and offer him a good life. In other words, I would pay for all expenses.

“I adopted him,” I said “And, I owe him.

What was necessary was surgery. The first step was the elbows, and he
proposed a doctor in Marin County for that surgery.

“I can do the hips,” he said.

Before leaving, I made an appointment for Friday to take out the eye stitches and told the Vet that Elliot’s eyes continuously seeped gook. He examined Elliot’s eyes, told me both eyes had conjunctivitis, and gave me some ointment. Ellliot’s problems seemed to be compounding.

Then he handed me the x-rays and told me to make an appointment with the
Marin vet and bring them with me.

The next morning I called Marin. It would be two weeks before I could get
an appointment. That allowed for a long time of worry and stress.

Dark Clouds

The more time I spent with Elliot the more impressed I became. Following my nighttime fears, I discovered he was housebroken, and was quick to learn.

Since the dog shelter knew nothing about him, I wondered why his previous family had let him go.

When Monday rolled around, we had a breakthrough. Elliot ate his breakfast.

Unable to get an appointment with the vet until Tuesday, we spent the day shopping for dog paraphernalia, dog food, behavioral reward goodies, a leash (he came with a collar) a stuffed animal, which he dropped on the floor and hasn’t looked at since, a rawhide bone, he chewed a bit and discarded, greenies he gobbled down, and an identification tag.

On Tuesday it was time to see the vet. We stepped through the door and Elliot turned on his charm. Office personnel and technicians crowded around and plied him with love, and a very young pit bull pup was anxious to play. Elliot was in heaven.

Then, to use a cliché, the shit hit the fan. When we finally got to see the doctor, he began checking Elliot’s legs, not one, but all four, bending them, stretching them, moving them from side to side.

“You’ve got a problem,” he said. “This dog has hip dysplasia as well as elbow dysplasia. For a dog this young it’s not good. He will need surgery, and it’s going to be very expensive.”

It sounded ominous and I was frightened, but he was now my dog.

“When I adopted him, I made a commitment,” I said. “Somehow I will take care of it.”