Wednesday, Oui are CRAZY!?

In this house, as of late, "The Adventures of Aaron and Jessi" have become "The Adventures of Bing and Manny."

In the past two weeks we have made 3, yes, *THREE* vet visits. I don't know if the stress and emotional strain of the move/remodel has landed the dogs (my emotions) in more hot water than usual but, as it seems, they keep getting into trouble.

It all started a few weeks ago when Manny began continuously vomiting. Scary. I, being a hypochondriac about my animals (I am qualified to give myself that diagnosis) worried. Had he eaten a battery? Plaster? Paint? A construction nail? A car? What could it be? I fished through his vomit for anything suspect and checked his bowel movements for any indication of an obstruction. It was then that I made the call. I had to call my old vet. We had a new one, but I didn't trust them yet...

J: "Hi, it's Jessi" (They know me. Yeah. It's bad. No-last-name-required kind of "know me." I go on to explain the problem. They tell me he should be seen and I explain to them about my relocation.)
RV: "You're leaving?"
J: "Yes, well, it's not by choice, trust me. I just can't commute 45 minutes every time I need to see you." (My in-laws had already recommended a great vet in the area. Embarrassingly, I called around for vets before I called around for an oil company.)
RV: "Oh, no, no of course not. Don't be silly. Ahhh, where should we send their records?"
J: "Oh yes, fax them to..."
RV: "Oh, no, we'll need a mailing address. These files are much to big."

We said our "good-byes" (Me: reluctantly. They probably shut down the hospital for a party to celebrate my departure. Don't get me wrong, they LOVE my dogs, but let me just say this and only this. I was on a first name basis with all the vets and one of them even gave me his home phone number because, in one weekend alone, I called the "on-call" 11 times. Enough said?)

So, I took Manny to the vet as I had already decided that I could not go to work until the puppy was seen and cleared of any health issue. Aaron rushed home from school to meet me at the vet as I am a fragile creature when it comes to the animals.

It turned out to basically be heartburn, which was treated with an antacid. (The vet explained in "layman's terms" that there exists a sort of "dog form of heartburn." Um,"layman?" Do you know that I have read the Encyclopedia of Dogs cover to cover and can identify every breed by sight and correctly identify the hereditary ailments associated with each breed?) Layman? Pshhhh.

So, last Saturday, another tragedy. Bing failed to correctly use the doggy stairs we purchased for him, instead choosing to jump from our brand new bed onto the hardwood floor. He yelped and hobbled off. We chased him around for a bit and he acted glum and injured, but still would walk and accept treats. (For any dog owner, you know what I'm talking about. Suspect your dog is hurt? Give them a treat. If they don't accept it, take them to the vet. A treat basically equals a full body scan, blood work and telepathic communication) Yeah, he accepted the treat. All is well.

I gleefully went off for a day of shopping in Kittery, Maine with my girlfriends. When I returned, several hours later, I found Aaron's car in the yard. What's unusual about this, you ask? Afterall, he does live here. Well, he was supposed to have left for New Jersey to race at a huge stage race.

As entered the house, Bing didn't show much emotion at seeing me. Yes, this is not all about me, but to understand how I am greeted you would have to bare witness to my homecoming, it's pretty amazing. Anyway, Bing cried when I scooped him up. I, of course, called Aaron.

J: "Where are you?"
A: "Riding."
J: "Where?"
A: "On ______ Road" (a town over)
J: "Something is wrong with Bing. I think his leg is broken. He cried when I picked him up."
A: Yeah, I figured. I cancelled my trip... just in case. I don't think it's broken though. He still uses it just fine. I gave him treats, and we went for a walk. He was limping..."
J: "He needs to go to the emergency room."
A: "Okay, this is their number...." (he rattled off the number, which he had memorized- [he KNOWS how to impress me]) "I'll be right home. I'm turning around now. Wait for me?"
J: "Yeah, just get here."

We arrived at the emergency room, (I'm hysterical) and hand over our wallets and promised each other we will take out a second mortgage on the house if "it comes down to it." Which, could mean physical therapy, a doggy wheel-chair, a prosthesis... who knows? But if the Bing needs it, we're buying it.

After about an hour of waiting and having to witness a family put down their cat (and us offering to pay for its health care [the cat was old and had to be put down anyway, regardless of the personal finances of the family]) we were called in to see the doctor.

Every vet who deals with Bing always says the same thing:

V: "He is a well mannered dog! Gorgeous. Look at those ears. What a good dog."Bing let the nice vet-man (who I will, eventually, convince, or annoy enough to give me his personal number... "just in case.") poke and prod him. The issue? Bing's kneecap had slipped out of place. It simply had to be popped in. The vet said to us:

V: "Well, what can be typical with the joints of small dogs, especially Chihuahuas is something called...."
J: "Luxating Patellar?"
V: (surprised) "Yes! You've read the vet bible?"
J: "Indeed."
V: "This might happen again, here, let me show you how to pop it back..."

We leave... almost $200 dollars later... with a healthy Bing and 4 syringes worth of anti-inflammatory medicine.

The saga didn't end there. Last night, as I was on the phone with my sister, Manny fell backwards onto the floor in an attempt to run after the cats. As he hit the floor a squeal escaped his snout, followed by several cries. My heart sank. I don't even recall at this point in time if I even hung up with my sister, but I attended to my child (who, by my neurosis, you'd think actually came from my womb) Aaron was attempting to get in the shower but heard the commotion and came barrelling up the stairs.

J: "Baby!!!!! I think it's broken! Manny broke his leg! He jumped. Help!! Get the car! Get his coat! Get his leash! Call them and tell them we are on our way!!!"

Aaron reacted (brilliantly) and somehow managed to get me and the injured Manny into the car, with my purse and all of Manny's paraphernalia. I was clutching to my puppy.

As we arrived at the vets (I think it was the vet, I couldn't really see through my tears as I was hysterical) the receptionist allowed us to cut the line.

R: (soothingly) "What happened to him?"
J: "He (gasp) f-f-fell (gulp)" Aaron intercedes.
A: "She is very upset. Our little man fell. We suspect he may have broken his right hind leg. She is blaming herself."
R: "Oh, that happens, honey. Don't blame yourself."
A: "Yes, well (stroking my hair) she is."
J: (inaudible whimpers)
R: "Fill out this paperwork. I'll get you right in."
J: "We...(swallow) were j-just hh-here (big breath in) on Saturday... with our oldest. Is (gasp) this necessary?"
R: "It will only take a minute."

Aaron grabbed the paperwork and began to fill it out... I noticed him reading the fine print and for some odd reason became a little irritated...

J:"It basically says that we need to pay up front and payment is due at the (swallow) time of service. I don't care... SIGN IT!"

Aaron diligently filled out the paperwork, a luxury for him as I normally insist on filling it out. (I have a hard time relinquishing control, especially where the animals are concerned.) I set Manny down for a moment, to assess the damage with a (mildly) clearer head. He stepped gently on his foot. As I rubbed his leg I felt the spot where the doctor had instructed me just 4 days earlier and... POP. I popped his knee back into place. He trotted off.

J: "I did it! He's fine. It was his knee. Like Bing! He's fine!"
A: (Sort of amused as I probably appear absolutely insane with a wild look of stress relief) "Well, ah, take him for a walk... just to be sure."
I did and he galloped.
J: "Yep, he's good. I fixed him." (Looking to the vet tech who watched the whole scene go down) "Will you watch him walk, just to be safe?"
VT: "Yeah, he looks good to me. Have a good night."

We almost went straight home. We first stopped at Wendy's to buy Manny a Vanilla Frosty.

On my to-do list for today?
Call our new vets. I need to make dental appointments for teeth cleanings for both the pups. Perhaps we can also discuss the benefits of corrective surgery or knee replacement. Do they do that? I must consult my vet bible.

Oui, I am crazy. The first step is recognizing it.

I also just want to take a moment to apologize, in advance, to any future pediatrician I (my child/children) have.