Ah, Thanksgiving. Family, turkey, and all the good stuff(ing). As we sat down to our late afternoon repast, our typically beggarific Jack Russell, Nelson, charmed and astonished us by waiting patiently outside the dining room while dishes clinked and food was passed. Anyone who has ever owned a terrier, or been around one, will probably be as astounded to hear of this behavior as we were to witness it. Did someone slip him a Prozac while we were sleeping? No matter. He was being the best he’d ever been and amidst exclamations of, “what a good boy you are!” we rewarded him in kind with bits of turkey as we finished carving up the carcass.
Fast forward to Saturday morning. Our perfect pooch ate his breakfast and then proceeded to recycle it on the back porch and carpet throughout the day. Terriers are nothing without their bounce, and our little guy’s spring had definitely unsprung. By Sunday morning he would do nothing but stay in his crate, head bowed, and refused all food and water. When he couldn’t be enticed with food, we knew something was most definitely wrong. Besides his tennis ball, food has always been his biggest obsession. So we took him to the doggie ER and awaited their diagnosis. Turns out, he had pancreatitis. And it was all our fault. All that fatty turkey overloaded his system and his pancreas was working overtime to get rid of it. We felt awful as we drove him home, dehydrated and drugged, and with pockets about $400 lighter.
Come Monday morning, he still refused to eat and I was truly worried he was still dehydrated. So, off to the regular vet I went, with poochie in my arms. As a sidenote, another sign that our dog was seriously ill: he actually let me pick him up without growling at me. They continued to treat him over yesterday and today and he’s now eating on his own and seems to have recovered quite well. We’ll probably have to manage his diet for the rest of his life, but we are so glad that he is still with us. Although, if you’d asked me about 3 hours ago I might have told you something different. After hours of worry and a total $800 worth of vet bills, the ungrateful bastard bit me. I guess I’m going to have to forgive him eventually, but it may take a few days. Good thing he’s cute.
But it’s not all bad I guess. While we were waiting in the doggie ER on Sunday, our friendly neighborhood celebrity (think: Whose Line Is It, The Drew Carey Show, and Two And A Half Men) came in. Such a nice guy. He asked us about our dog and we treated him like a “normal” person, as if we had no idea who he was. I swear that guy is always “on”. He had us laughing from the moment he stepped in. When we told him what happened he shook his head and said kindly, Well, I know better than to feed my dog turkey. But my dog, he eats rocks. $1700 and one surgery later, he was presented with the stone as if it was a trophy he might like to keep on display. I guess we should consider ourselves lucky. That was one expensive rock.