Saturday, March 4, 2017

The Four-Legged Invalid Has Left The Under-Shack Deathbed

I am ECSTATIC to report that Puppy Jack seems to be on the mend. Farmer H saw him on the front porch this morning. He wasn't shaking. When I looked out around 10:30, Jack was laying in a dust hole in the front yard, where the chickens used to take their dust bath. He was in the bright sun, temps in the 40s at that time. I opened the front door, but the sound didn't rouse him. I squinted for a few minutes, until I could see him belly moving with breath.

Farmer H came to get lunch, and we sat down on the front porch to observe Jack. He got all excited. His people sitting on the porch usually mean food. Farmer H sat in the woven-metal chair with a little big sandwich, some long vanilla wafer cookies (sugar free!) and a tiny bag of Sour Cream and Onion Sun Chips. Jack watched him hopefully. Finally, Farmer H declared he was finished.

"Don't give Jack any bread!"

"I won't. Here, Jack." Farmer H tore off some of the cold cuts and cheese. Jack ate it up. Then Farmer H prepared to toss the rest to my Sweet, Sweet Juno. "Come on, Juno!" She knows better than to sit and stare during eating time. Goes off to the side and lays down. But she's ready when summoned. I don't think she likes mustard, because she took her end of the sandwich down to the end of the porch and took it apart. She ate every crumb, though. Juno is fat and sassy. And smiling.

When I returned from town, Jack was there to greet me. I gave him a handful of cat kibble. And a little extra. He ate it like he was ravenous. I suppose his innards were empty. He wasn't frolicking like normal, but he didn't shake or whimper or foam at the mouth.

During my walk, Jack and Juno did the mouth jive, where they bite at each others jowls while running beside each other, growling. Afterward, Jack walked sedately to the porch when I mentioned the evening snack. Juno was wired, though, leaping and yipping, back to her old self. Not depressed like yesterday.

Jack had the meat from Thursday's chicken thigh, and Juno had the bone with some meat clinging. They also had (1 for Jack, 2 for Juno) the cheesey breadsticks left from Casey's pizza last weekend. I forgot it was in the bottom of FRIG II. In addition, Juno had a Kaiser roll.

Our little guy is still not quite up to snuff. Not his usual boisterous self. A bit subdued.

Please pardon my blue Croc, and peek-a-boo foot with no sock. I'm a shameless hussy! I'd just gotten dressed after the shower, and slipped them on before putting on socks for town. And regular shoes, of course. I don't wear my Crocs in public!

I think Puppy Jack is on the road to recovery.


Sioux said...

HM--No Crocs in public? My opinion of you has fallen to an all-time low. Crocs are good in every situation. My son is getting married in May, and I am planning on blinging out a pair of Crocs.

Shame. Shame on you. (And I'm so glad Jack is feeling better. I was worried on your behalf.)

fishducky said...

I'm so glad Puppy Jack is OK; I was worried about him!!

Kathy's Klothesline said...

I was catching up and I was holding my breath while I read the last post and this one!! I know that feeling in the pit of your belly when you know something is wrong with your fur babies. They can't tell you what is wrong and making the decision to let nature take it's course or intervene is a hard one. I feel so guilty that I let Toni Louise suffer for as long as she did. The vet told us that she would have died a very painful death if we had waited any longer. Major guilt trip. We spent a chunk of money for her surgery, so much that I have been looking into pet insurance! No Obama care available for the canines, though. One vet I asked about it told me I would be better off just putting that $30 a month in a bucket to use in the event of a major dog illness.
I am so happy that Jack is okay. I know you are. Funny how the other dogs always know when something is wrong.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux, least I hope you are wearing a shirt to that wedding. Your boy had to learn that behavior SOMEWHERE!

Thank you for worrying on my behalf. I almost sprained my give-a-dang by worrying so much myself.

We can all be relieved together!

It was the shaking that worried me the most. He could hardly stand up. Trying to run around the porch, Jack looked like he was about to be tossed overboard on the high sea.

I though about Toni Louise when Farmer H said he'd seen Jack stop to poop during the Gator trip as well, but that there was no turd. He's so eloquent, that Farmer H. I wondered if Jack was peeing, or unable to.

Farmer H was actually going to allow me to take Jack to the vet, but he couldn't get him out from under the Little Barbershop of Horrors.