It all started with the discovery of small bits of blood on my walls.
Hmm. How did that get there? Guess somebody in our house had an ow-ie. For once we had no drama to go with it. I counted my lucky stars, wiped up the dots, and went on with life.
Then came a little chewing. Prophet has always chews on himself–guess that’s entertaining for a dog riddled with allergies. We’ll be watching television and he starts in–chew, chew, chew, lick, lick, lick. That sound–the click, click of teeth on fur, and slurpy, desperate noises as his tongue laps up his shedding–that sound is indelibly burned into my memory banks. Hollywood should come record my dog doing this. Add a few dog licking sounds to any torture scene and you have real entertainment–rated Y for yucky.
“Stop that!” I shouted with all the love in my heart. Prophet got up and walked away. More dots. Hmm.
Finally, I caught him in the act. Proph was actually chewing the tip of his tail! And, he managed to make it bleed. Oh happy day. Add a trip to the vet before sending him off to PetSmart so my good guy and I could enjoy a weekend away. I took him in.
Sure enough, a hundred and some dollars and a funky looking band-aid later, we had a dog with an infection on his tail and a scramble for a pet-sitter for the weekend. Petsmart doesn’t take in pets with band aids. Who knew?
A week or two later, and all the antibiotics used up, we went back to the vet for the bandage removal. The dog made more fuss getting the thing off than on.
“I’m not sure this is a good sign,” said the vet. “He shouldn’t be in pain any more.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I love my dog, but he’s a bit of a drama queen. Perhaps the vet tech didn’t say pretty please when she took his tail in hand?”
We did an X-ray. Two or three bones up there was a little crack. Hairline. I could hardly see it. Back on went the band-aid. I wasn’t going to even consider amputating the tail as she suggested. People heal pretty quickly from broken bones to arms and legs. Surely, Proph’s tail should be better in no time.
Guess the healing angels didn’t hear me. With the anti-biotic used up, Prophet became more and more aware of his broken tail, and he ripped off the second band-aid. Back to the vet for a new one–$37 for an empty syringe and self-adhesive ace wrap.
We had company that night. Prophet was so excited. Our friends brought their dog along. No matter how that other dog tried to set a good example–sitting quietly, staring at his owner with a please-can-we-go-home-now look, laying on his bed with the resignation only a dog can project–Prophet wasn’t buying it.
As the volume of Proph’s barking increased and picking up of shoes and other inappropriate objects became a hopeless invitation to play, I kept wondering where my well-behaved middle-aged dog had gone, and who was this exuberant little kid before me? Into the kennel he had to go. At last he settled down and we could enjoy our company.
Later, we let Proph out, but the band-aid stayed behind. Goodness! No way were we going to go to an emergency vet to have the thing put back on. Home remedy time. We wrapped up the tail–two, three, four more times in the next day or two.
At last my guy got out the ever-powerful duct tape and wrapped that tail so that it would take a nuclear explosion to get it off. Proph slouched and sagged around a lot, but the band-aid stayed on.
A couple of days later we took the wrap off to change it. But the happy little tail end had turned purple. I cleaned it and the dog didn’t flinch, but he licked open a wound with just one or two swipes of the tongue. Back to the vet.
“It’s dead,” she said. “No, it’s hard to wrap a tail too tight. You’ve done what you could.”
Times like these, I think of all the Reader’s Digest articles I’ve read where homeowners perform miracles with creatures that no vet will touch. Love, band aids and voila! Healthy pets and wild critters emerge from these times. Not so with poor Proph.
We took him
in one more time. Snip, snip and five inches of tail were gone. But gone is the chewing as well. He’s smiling again, even from within the “collar of shame.”
Oh! That collar? It’s on because when the vet took the operation band-aid off, Prophet managed to lick off two stitches while we were in the reception area making the next appointment! His tail had been healing nicely. It’s back in a band-aid. Maybe next week we’ll get back to normal.
Until then, lick, lick, lick will be ever in my brain next to the wree, wree, wree of the shower scene from Psycho.