LadyCarrie

I just lost what I wrote, so I'll try again. Good morning, Carrie, Mary, and Kay (and to all❤️), It's all right, Carrie, that you don't know what to say. We don't either. We vacillate so often that what we say may not be what we think within minutes. Part of the reason for our vacillating is Callie goes from eagerness to play to appearing about to die quickly. This is typical of kidney disease. Your caring is quite sufficient, and we thank you (all) for it. Mary, you are right about the Mylanta, yet it's recommended by her vets at this stage. We can't get pill form meds into Callie due to her mouth pain and to her mile-wide stubborn streak. Even when she was younger and not so sick, we had to pass a long path of razor-sharp teeth from the front of her mouth to her throat, and she aimed to make our fingers look like soaker hoses. Amberly and I are both good at doseing, but whenever possible, we learned to go for liquid meds for Callie. Doxies have long, narrow mouths that are chock full of teeth like a small alligator, and they do not submit easily. A Doxie is to dog what Siamese is to cat. Getting chewed up several times a day caused Amberly and me to submit instead of her. She's the only one who ever "won" the Battle of the Pill over us. Thanks for the idea of warming the water, and I'll ask Amberly if we can use a smaller needle since water isn't viscous. I've wondered why such a large needle has to be used. I think it's because many, if not most, dogs are scared and fight the treatment, so perhaps it's better to just get it over. I like your idea of the smaller needle. I think it's certainly worth a try with Callie. In truth, I think with Callie's terror and sense of self-preservation, she'll fight us hard regardless of how we do it. Cats tolerate this treatment better than dogs. I wonder if I can convince Callie she's now a cat. No, I didn't think that would work. One of our vets told us that Doxies do not tolerate boluses as easily as do most other dogs. Our Callie is a strong-willed child about this. I can't even blame her. I think I'm a Doxie when it comes to needles. At age nine, I crawled over every row of seats in our elementary school auditorium, with a teacher at each end trying to grab me, when the county nurse had us all lined up in the aisle to vaccinate us. I smelled alcohol, a kid screamed, and I bolted. I heard one of the teachers say that they would get me when I went to the cafeteria for lunch. I didn't eat lunch that day. I was a biter, so I identify with Callie (when you're the youngest and littlest of seven kids, you learn to use your teeth; that's my defense anyway). She just purely can't help herself. She thinks she's fighting for her life, and we can't explain. During her last vet visit, the vet asked sweetly, "Don't you wish they could talk?" I said, "No, not right now. You don't want to know what this girl is saying to us." Amberly said, "You'd be asking for soap." Kay, there is no end to these water treatments. They are keeping her alive. When she can no longer tolerate the boluses, she will likely die within days to two to three weeks. The last days will become progressively miserable as she becomes more dehydrated. At the very end, she will have horrific seizures, unless we euthanize her before seizures commence. This is the terrible way of kidney disease. Callie has encephalopathy, which is caused by KD, and it causes her to behave strangely at times, and more so as she becomes more dehydrated. Toxins build up in her blood, because her kidneys can't filter them out. This causes personality changes (e.g. she will threaten to bite, and she's always been so happy and sweet; give her a bolus, and she's more herself again; we do our very best to choke back sneezes when we're holding her, because she's always thought they were rude noises). Because the water is keeping her alive, it's so difficult to withhold it. We must withhold it at some time, because the kidney disease will progress no ,after what we do. It's maddening. May I please scream, "I hate kidney disease" with all that is within me? I do scream that a lot in my head. Again, I thank and love each of you for caring and for your compassionate hearts. Carrie

Thank you for your words and kindness, Anne, and thanks for being you. Thanks for holding us in your heart. Callie does look pretty cute chasing that little red light. Her legs are so short that when she makes a fast start after it, she goes nowhere, and just splats herself into the floor. She picks herself up, and sets out after it again -~ again and again. She thinks balls are for the unsophisticated, but the laser light is worth risking her dignity for. Because her legs are so short, she's not the most graceful little girl, but that's all right. It adds to her charm, and has given us lots of laughs over the years. We could always tell by the look on her face that she thought Ashely and Beauregard were being stupid for being so danged happy to retrieve balls for us every time we threw them. I declare she'd sit on the couch, look down her nose, and narrow her eyes at them. Amberlys laughing, because she knows that disdainful look. Carrie

Hi, Thank you for asking about Callie. I'm not exactly sure how to answer, for we are bouncing from having hope to having little hope to have her a while longer. She does well right after her water by bolus treatments. She's needing them two to three times a week now, and she's beginning to fight treatment due to pain. They get so they hate bolus treatments (understatement). Being sick and sensitive make the needle sticks and "cold" water feel unbearable after a while. If she can tolerate the treatments, she can have more time with a reasonable quality of life. She still enjoys some things (laser light; walks in the Hollow with me ~ some days), but we see her changing. I didn't think I could even write at this time, but I find that I can today. Amberly is home, sitting on the floor in our bedroom, and holding Callie in her soft, velvety blankie, which she loves dearly. Amberly was supposed to work ER today, but stayed home to help Callie (and me; I got myself in a knot, and had bladder spasms yesterday; Callie and I are sharing a bottle of Mylanta). Callie vomited three times during one episode during the night, so we took her to the vet's office this morning. The treatment didn't go well, and she begged for it to stop during the entire time. Without the treatments, we will lose her soon. She's tiring of them. We are at a hard, hard place. Our days are filled with emotion. We don't want to make mistakes, and fear we will. There seems to be no way to not have (more!) remorse, regardless of our decisions. Our hearts are breaking, for this is as good as it gets for Callie. We don't know the right time to stop the water therapy. We are struggling with our feelings of desire to save her life "at all cost," knowing that we are only postponing the inevitable. We do not want to say "When" for Callie; instead, we want her to say for herself, as Ashely did. We aren't positive, but she may have said "When" this morning at the vet's office. She cried and shook through the treatment. The needle slipped out, and she had to be stuck twice (18 gauge needle; big). She bled on Amberly, and on her towel. The decision to stop would be easier if she didn't do so much better after treatment. We know we won't be able to keep them up much longer, for that would be unreasonable and wrong ~ but what is "right"? We will definitely continue giving her the antibiotic injections (Amberly can give those at home, the vet said), and buprenex for pain. On a lighter note, I'm happy to report that Callie ate her turkey and carrots (put through the blender) after her treatment today. We are vegetarian, but I'll catch her a pig, if she wants one. Blessings, Carrie

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Thank you, Anne, for your great support and kind words! Carrie

Our Trip to Modesto on 1 July 2015 3 July 2015 Amberly came for Jerry and me about 2 p.m. on Tuesday, July 1 to go to Jerry's appointment with our very good friend, Dr. P. Creaseman, who is a plastic surgeon at Modesto. This was Jerry's pre-op appointment for lesion removals (one at inner side of right arm at elbow, which appears to be healing, and one on each side of his neck; the two on his neck appear to be squamous cell carcinoma, which is the one stage more serious than basal cell, but not nearly as serious as melanoma). Dr. Creaseman said that if I can drop Jerry's INR to 2.5 on the day of Jerry's surgery (July 14), he will do the surgery without the Lovenox injections. I believe I can do that. Jerry and Amberly told him that I'm an expert, and have this INR control "down to a science" (Amberly). This is far too important for me to feel overly-confident about it. Jerry's life is in danger without Lovenox at anything lower than 2.5 (mechanical valve can stick and quit), and he can have a spontaneous bleed from anywhere (eyes, nose, throat, internal vital organs) if INR is over 3.5. I never change his Coumadin. I control the INR with food. Dr. Creaseman asked Jerry to describe the lesion on his arm when it was new, and had not begun to change. Jerry described it as looking "something like a wart." I said, "No, it didn't. It looked like an earwig." Jerry gave me a shocked smile, and they all laughed at my description. Well, it DID look like an earwig in shape and length, but not in color. Amberly said that she's sure he's never had a patient describe a lesion as having the appearance of an earwig. Dr. Creaseman still loves me. He told me so as he hugged me 'Bye, but he still won't give me the keys to his Jag. He'll take me for a ride, but won't fork over his keys (he knows I have Meniere's and now need cataract surgery). Perhaps an earwig would not have come to my mind so readily had one not crawled out of bed with me as I crawled out a couple of days before. Our gardens are full of them this year, but that's the only one we've found in the house, thankfully. After Jerry's exam, I asked Dr. Creaseman to tell Amberly the Latin medical term that means a chronic dermatitis with nodules on the cartilage of the ear - a medical term doctors use when what the patient has GOK ("God only knows"), and the doctor hasn't a clue. He told her, and then I asked him to type it using my iPad. I should have known better, although he tried. He can't type, and he can't spell. I forgot that about him. After he struggled with the typing, and argued with me about the spelling of "chondro," I took my iPad back, and asked him to just say the word, breaking it into its combining parts, and I'd type it. That worked. The word is "Chondrodermatitisnodularischronicushelicis." The way I first learned of this word is when Jerry asked Dr. Creaseman, several months ago, what a tiny spot on his private area was. Dr. Creaseman looked, and came out with that long word. I began trying hard to break it down to its combining parts in order to understand its meaning, but got lost due to the word's length. Poor Jerry was lost from the beginning, and it sounded like he had something dreadful for sure. Jerry looked very worried, and looked to me for reassurance as he asked for explanation. I guess Jerry had that one coming, because soon after we arrived at Dr. Creaseman’s office that day, Jerry asked him, with a voice low enough that not even I heard (thankfully), "How are your nuts?" He got the shocked expression and the "What??!" he was looking for. Dr. Creaseman raises pecans and almonds on his ranch in the Valley. Both of them were just being boys that day, I think. After our good visit with Dr. Creaseman Tuesday, we went to Vintage Faire Mall to the Shoe Box, where we were served by a very likable, young sales person named Josh. We were there to buy SAS shoes, primarily for Jerry (1 dress pair and 1 for office/shop use; SAS doesn't make the dress style Jerry is used to, so he bought Florsheim, which he likes, and is quality, but he says is not as comfortable.). I encouraged him strongly to buy the most comfortable UGG slippers I've ever felt. He agreed to it, but then changed his mind, as he inspected the soles. He told Josh, with such pride in me, that I've kept the hardwood floors in such good condition, even after about fifteen years. He said that he will not mar the floors now with shoes. He went on to explain to Josh that they are shiny without my using polish of any kind. Josh was sweet enough to pretend to be impressed. I told Jerry that he is so much more important to me than the floors. I want his feet comfortable, especially considering his painful bone spurs. A lovable, but stubborn man, he is. Hmmmm. His birthday is August 23. Perhaps I'll have them delivered . While Jerry and I shopped, Amberly went next door to the ladies' section, and bought two pairs of cute SAS sandals, and returned to us. Later, Jerry and I went next door to shop for me. I found two pairs of sandals I liked right away. One pair is taupe. The other pair is red, and called Lipstick. I thought $16.00 was quite a low price, so I chose the only two colors they had on display. I also chose a black pair, which looks similar to the ever-popular Mary Jane style. When I paid for my purchases, the total was something over $460 plus tax. I whispered to Amberly to go check the price of those sandals. She came back and said, “$160.00.” Well, that explained that. I didn't see the extra zero; $16 was $160.00. I would have bought them anyway, because they're cute and comfortable, and will last many summers, but I'm so thankful they had only two colors displayed! This became a comical mistake, which caused us all to laugh, and it gave us another happy memory. Like Amberly said, "There's nothing in that store that would be sixteen dollars." Common sense tells me that. I thought the price was surprisingly low for SAS, but "seeing is believing." Of course, I am scheduled for cataract surgeries on August 19 and September 9. My surprise price made Jerry laugh. He told me later, "It made me happy to see you happy and light-hearted again, like you used to be, with the sparkle back in your eyes." I understand this. Just for a few hours, we felt our normal selves -- shopping and having fun together -- padding around the mall together, and getting "mall feet." It's the same mall where we used to go when we lived in the Valley, and after we moved here to the mountains, but it's changed drastically class-wise and quality-wise. It was fun anyway. If gang members purposefully step into our way now, I can run them over with the wheelchair, and Jerry can give them a fierce beating with his cane. After we bought our shoes, we went to See's Candies to buy Jerry two boxes of "soft centers" chocolates. It's the thing to do when we go to the mall. After this, we had a difficult choice to make. We could go back to Macy's (no longer carries Jones of New York!), or we could go to Marcella's Mexican restaurant on Tully Road. We decided on the food. Jerry said that he felt sorry that Amberly and I didn't get to shop for dresses (he likes for me to wear dresses; he likes all lengths from mini to maxi, for all lengths are feminine; he's always enjoyed shopping with me, and having me model for him as we made our purchases). He said that our shopping felt "incomplete," because Amberly and I "didn't get even one new dress." We made the right choice, for eating at nice Mexican restaurants used to be part of what we did (we don't have such on the hill). It is one of the things we did often after a toe-throbbing (due to spike heels; that is, Amberly and me, not Jerry), fun day at the mall. It felt so good to feel normal again, and it was the best ending for a happy, family day together ~ just the three of us. Amberly treated us to an excellent dinner, and we are grateful. We have not adjusted to being on the receiving end from the kid yet though, but she asked us to allow her to do this for us. Jerry was about to leave the tip when we learned that she'd taken care of that also. We must have done something right, for she's a wonderful daughter. We had an exceptionally enjoyable ride home from the Valley, through the wide open grasslands of the chaparral area that I call the Land of Cows and Coyotes, onward and upward through the foothills, into forest of the high country of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and to our home in the awesome, but bug-bitten, piney woods. The moon was full and bright as we left the twinkling lights of the city behind us. I watched them as they became part of the distant landscape. The ride through the Land of Cows and Coyotes opened a floodgate for many happy memories of our traveling years together. I wished I could remember every detail vividly. I journaled back then. I wish I'd written with even more detail. I remembered aloud that we had seen tepees all lit up from the inside on an Indian Reservation one time on such a night as this, but I couldn't remember where we had seen them. Jerry said, "It was just outside of Flagstaff. We were headed to Utah. We left Flagstaff at night." Amberly remembered that night also. We all remembered that special memory together, while creating a new, happy, but poignant one. The moonlight shone brightly over the windswept, amber-colored wild wheat and other grasses. I thought of the different kinds of wildlife living out there as the miles rushed by as we traveled eastward. This wild and beautiful area is home to cougars, coyotes, deer, raccoons, opossums, jackrabbits, bobcats, foxes, snakes, wild turkeys, several birds of prey (eagle, falcon, hawk, buzzard), and most love to dine on the poor wee field mice. The moon popped in and out from behind wispy clouds as we left the Valley floor, and climbed into the foothills. The windswept grasslands began to give way to scrub oaks, scattered among the grasses. The moon exposed a group of oaks in silhouette as it appeared to hang just beyond and above a line of them on the brow of a hill. Although the moon shown full and bright, lightning began to flash in the distance to the left and underneath the moon. The lightning soon began to flash in earnest to our east and to our north, which we knew to be in the higher elevations of the Sierras, and possibly near our home. This dangerous, dry lightning had been predicted. It seemed strange to see lightning and a full moon at the same time. I've likely seen this before, but my memory is too short to remember if I did. The clouds became thicker as we traveled higher into the mountains, and the moon struggled to not be shut behind them. There was one time that the moon showed through a thick, quickly-moving, defined V-shaped cloud so that it showed itself like a huge slice of golden pie. Jerry and I spoke often about the moon and clouds, but poor little Amberly had to keep her eyes on the road, and didn't get to see the interaction of the moon with the clouds until we pulled into our driveway at home. After we got all of our packages unloaded and inside, and the transport chair back into the pickup, we gave God thanks for such a happy day together, and for bringing us home safely.

I just posted about Ruby on "Stories an Memories." Carrie

I didn't tell the rest of the story about Ruby and her bank roll. I have the unabridged story written as it unfolded somewhere, along with the photographs. Ruby didn't just chew the money; she ate it. Her mama thought the rent money was gone forever, and knew her landlord would never believe "the dog ate it." In resignation, she lay on the couch with Ruby while trying to think of what she could possibly do, since she had no more money. As they lay on the couch, Ruby began to look unwell, turned green, and suddenly projectile-vomited up the wad of money (God does indeed work in mysterious ways; as the big fish spat up Jonah, Ruby spat up the rent money). Her surprised mama stared at the slimy, green ball, and wondered whether she could bring herself to try to wash it. Need won out. She "laundered" the money, pieced the tiny bits of soggy paper back together as best she could, and took it to the bank where she was given credit for six hundred dollars. Now, that's a story the bank tellers will always remember, and one with which they could entertain their families that evening. I wanted to give this story to the newspaper, but it wasn't my story to report. I gave the possibility considerable consideration, even so. As I said before, I just love Ruby. Carrie, were Ruby and Chester to live in the same household, it really would "take a whole neighborhood" to raise them. Think of what a movie of them together as main characters might be like. We have a lot of talented, creative people on this forum. Shall we give it a try? I think such a movie could be breath-taking hilarious. Carrie

Carrie, I understand this joy of ball playing, for Jerry and Ashely had such a nightly routine for most of Ashely's life. The lack of having her to play with at night left a great hole in his life. Beauregard loves to play ball, but like your Chester, Ashely "lived" to play with squeaky, bouncy, rubber balls. There were times (e.g. Christmas) when we needed to stop her play until she could cool down, for she'd play to near exhaustion, evidenced by her tongue lolling out like Chester's. We could almost hear her ask us to stop her, because she was out of control, and couldn't stop herself. Callie used to sit on the couch and watch Ashely with a disdainful look on her face that said she thought Ashely was making a fool of herself just to make their humans happy. Callie's attitude about a ball has always been, "If you wanted it, you shouldn't have thrown it away. Don't look at me to fetch it. You go get it yourself." She does like to play with the laser light though. Whether she looks stupid or not, she can't resist that little red light that she knows she will someday own to tuck into her daytime bed. Thank you for another memory of Chester. We're all coming to love him, and we need the laughter. Carrie, too

Hi, Mary, I, too, have muddled through, learning with each one, and feeling sad that I learned some things too late. Like you, I absolutely hate cutting the babies' nails. They bellow when I'm least expecting it ~ you know the kind ~ the startling kind that causes those wild adrenalin hot flashes, and make you dance in place. Callie is the worst. She bellows before I even touch her toe! Callie's going to make it a while longer. We will try to keep her as long as we can, but we know that with KD, we need to keep her from getting to the seizures stage. We are trying to treat her as we "think" we would want to be treated. We haven't been there yet, so we only think we know. I grew up with Black and Tan hounds and Blueticks. There was a reddish one, but I can't remember the name of its kind. It was a hound though. He had the sophisticated name of Pup, because I was six when I named him. He was my bestest friend, who I cuddled with when I was sure nobody loved me but my dog. My mother caught me crying, and confiding this "truth" to him one time. We had two German Shepherds when I was very young (my mother's favorite breed). Amberly has a friend who has a bloodhound named Ruby. I just love Ruby. Ruby is often in trouble. She's curious. She just does stuff. Her mama wasn't too happy with her when she chewed up six one-hundred dollar bills she had put on the kitchen counter for her rent. I received several photos of Ruby during that time, along with the chewed up money. She looked very sorry, and ashamed of herself. Poor darling. I received a photo of Ruby standing up on her hind legs looking out the kitchen window watching for her daddy to pull into the driveway a few days ago. She's forever in trouble, but never mean. She's a big, slobbering baby. Carrie

Much, much ❤️ to each of you. Carrie

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James, I am sorry you are hurting so badly. Some of us never get over missing our parents, yet the pain will lessen, and become an ache that won't hurt as badly as you hurt now. I was my mother's caregiver for twenty years. I was exceptionally close to her, so I understand your hurting heart, I believe. I will pray for you, and others here who are hurting. I pray that our Lord will comfort you, and give you peace in your heart that surpasses all understanding. I, too, noticed that your mum has such a sweet face. She looks pretty in her dress and hat with the matching flower. Like your mum, I like hats (my favorite is the pillbox hat like Jackie Kennedy used to wear). Blessings, Carrie

Mary, Considering all the medical knowledge you're acquiring, you might consider becoming a vet tech (smile). I'm seventy-one, and Jerry, my husband, has serious health issues, so I believe these three Doxie cousins will be our last babies. I'm sad about that. It's difficult to imagine our house being Doxieless, for we've had one almost all the time we've been married (47 years). Our having three Doxie babies at one time was wild, but they are/were worth it. It was like parenting triplets. I've changed two potty boxes for fifteen years (our girls shared one), which is like diapering. I understood Copperpot's story about Chester chewing the wall. I'm sitting in the room that still has Beauregard's teeth marks where he tried to chew a knot from the knotty pine wall. I was not at all happy with him at the time, but now, I tell myself that a little bit of oil hides the teeth marks. It was hilarious to watch them lined up in a row chasing whoever was in lead with a toy throughout the house ~ up the stairs, over and under the bed a few time, and then racing back down the stairs, and repeat this a few times. It's a good idea to stand still, and out of the way until it's over. Doxies rarely tire; they just change activities. Doxies are not a good choice for those who want a sedate lifestyle. They are nearly always wanting to play, and are so comical. Little loves. I love hounds of every kind. The Bloodhound is my favorite. Because I can't have a bellowing bloodhound howling at the moon in my neighborhood, I choose the Dachshund, which is part bloodhound. Beauregard can bellow with the best of 'em. When he gets on a "high lonesome," we reel him in. Carrie

Yes, what I've learned through good things ~ and through things that fill me with anguish and great remorse ~ help Callie. I'm thankful this newly-acquired knowledge helps Callie, yet it causes me to remember vividly that Ashely suffered horribly due to my lack of this knowledge. Our going through this with Callie brings back memories of the vet-led wrong decisions I made for Ashely. He is a bad vet due to his ego, regardless of his knowledge of medicine. I hear my own voice echoing through my mind and heart that Ashely suffered due to my decisions. The guilt is not mine; still, remorse fills me. I know God will help me thorough this, for He always does. I'll become all right again. His grace is sufficient for me this day. Tomorrow will become "this day." I am definitely a better advocate for our babies. Our babies, our decisions. Education is of utmost importance. Each of us here is trying hard to help all others by telling our stories, and sharing what we've learned through our experiences. This caring and sharing is Love in action.

What beautiful dogs! I especially love their eyes. ❤️ Hugs, Carrie

Good morning, Mary, Thank you for writing, caring, and most of all for praying. I do believe Callie's going to make an amazing "come back" for a while longer. I say amazing, because she was so bad the vet was ready to euthanize her a few days ago. She has begun to eat, walked outside (not far, and briefly), and even showed interest in the laser light. If she gets so she can play again, then I say that's an acceptable quality of life. Of course, playing is like breatheing to a Doxie. Ashely played a little bit until the day before she died, so I'm not sure playing is a good barometer for a Doxie. It definitely shows a desire to live. If Callie can tolerate the antibiotic, she has a good chance to live for a while. We know, and I'm sure you know also, the day will come that regardless of how much she drinks on her own, it will not be enough. Drinking enough becomes impossible. We will supplement her water intake with boluses as long as she can tolerate the procedure well. How often she will need them is yet to be determined. Amberly (daughter) is a RN, so she's the one who inserts the needle, and I hold her on the couch. I think, like Ashely, Callie will tell us herself when "enough is enough." When Ashely cried, and asked us to not stick her anymore, I told Amberly, "No more," and she agreed. Surprisingly, the vet said that I made the right decision. Ashely herself told me "When." There comes a time when they can't tolerate one more needle stick. I won't force boluses. If they don't fight against it, it's a wonderful, life-saving treatment. No, I haven't tried tripe, but I've heard that dogs like it. The biggest problem with prepared KD food is dogs hate the taste of it, and won't eat it. A vet friend of mine, a lady doctor, gave me two recipes that she uses for her dogs for our girls. I vary these, and Callie likes them. She couldn't eat due to the condition of her teeth and mouth. The antibiotic helped the condition of her mouth so that she can eat. Of course, her teeth cannot be fixed, so we will use buprenex for pain. As you've lived this KD life, you know that it's one day at a time, and what is right for one day might not be right for the next. There are so many variables. We have a limited time with her, because there is no cure for KD, and she is fifteen. It's possible for her to live months longer. That may be hopeful thinking, but we now have hope again for the immediate future. I had not considered purchasing supplies from a pharmacy. Thank you for telling me that you got your supplies at Walgreens. That's a good idea, for treatment does get so very expensive. Blessings, Carrie

Thank you very much, Marj, for caring and for your support. It means a lot to me. Carrie

Oh, Carrie, thank you so much for starting this thread. It's perfect for so many of us, for we all have stories to tell, and will enjoy hearing the stories of others. I think we all are going to love both you and Chester. You are both precious and priceless. Thank you for the belly laughs. We all needed that levity. Carrie, too

Carrie, I understand your feelings about Chester (I love his nickname!), and I am going to be praying with you for you to have strength, discernment, and the peace that surpasses all understanding (Phillipians 4:7). My heart hurts for you. ❤️ Warm hugs, Carrie, too

Good morning to All, I have good news about Callie. She has begun to eat, and she drank some water on her own. We are giving her bread soaked in chicken broth, and are giving her water and broth by syringe. Sometimes syringe-feeding for a short time will cause dogs to be able to eat. I would do this only for a short time. It appears the antibiotic and bolus will give her more time to live. I don't mean to say she's out of the woods, but she seems to be considering emerging. After she ate her first bites, she looked so proud of herself, and waited for our happy squeals of surprise, and her tons of praise she knew she had coming. She wagged her tail, and the look in her eyes, as she looked up to ours, said, "Look what I did!" I thank each of you who think of her and us, and who are praying. May our Lord bless each of you. Blessings and hugs to all, and Callie sends her paw print, dipped in the ink of love and gratitude, Carrie

Mary, Thank you for the information about Cerenia. I didn't know about this one. I'll ask Callie's vet if she can have it. I am familiar with the K9 sites. I found these places soon after Ashely was diagnosed. They're really helpful. At that time, I knew zilch about KD in dogs, except that because of it, Ashely's vet told me she likely had six months to two years to live, and he thought about six months. She had only five. Whatever did loving, frightened pet-parents do before such sites online existed? Of course, we know the answer. It's evident you did your research, for you are well-informed. It's necessary in order to give our babies length and quality of life when they have KD. You did well, and I thank you so much for sharing what you learned with me. At this point, we are on comfort care only with Callie. We've done the KD diet (Ashely said, "Yuck!" and refused it), and special home cooked diets; heavy on the latter. Now, I'll give Callie whatever I can get her to eat ~ even a cookie, cheese, or whatever makes her happy. Antibiotics and buprenex will be her meds. I'm going for happy now. I thank you very much for your thoughts and prayers. These are most important, and most effective. These are our hotlines to Heaven, and to the ears of our Father. Hurts happen, but we need not hurt alone. God gives us people ~ and deer~ to comfort us. Thank you for being one of those people. Blessings, Carrie

I consider the young deer a gift also, Kay. God shows up to tell us how much He loves us in so many ways. I am grateful. Jerry was on the couch all day due to weakness and instability while walking. He scares me when he goes staggering off across a room, or reels backward. Some days are like that for him, but he also has good days that were it not for his bad hip, he appears well. What I started out to say is that because he was lying down, it took me a while to get him sitting up. I needn't have been concerned that our guest would leave soon. He or she seemed content to "sit a spell" with us. I called it a fawn, but I'm not sure that is the right word. It was small, very young, and appeared to be taking in its world with wide-eyed awe. Yes, the deer was indeed a gift.

Just a note to tell you that I care, Butch. Hugs, Carrie

Thank you both so much for caring and for responding. Actually, Kay, I should have written what I said clearer. I'm sorry. I put both Callie's and Beauregard's lunch through my thirty-year-old-but-still-working Bosch (it used to be white, but is now cream-colored; it works, so cream-colored and old suits me fine). I bought it when I was my mother's caregiver, and she needed pureed food. The rest of the story about Callie's potato-eating is that I was holding Callie in my lap while I ate my own lunch when she seemed to be interested in my baked potato. As particular as Jerry is about a germ and cleanliness, he didn't even flinch when I chewed my potato, spat it out, and fed it to Callie. I know I'm being gross. I'm not acting quite myself today ~ or perhaps this is the real me when I'm hurting and scared. As I write, a fawn walked down our driveway, turned around, and walked back into the street. I hope it moves soon, but it looks quite content. Good. It moved on into the woods across the street. You are both blessings to me. Thank you again. Blessings and hugs, Carrie