On Monday, I wrote about Francine, the lovely bat-eared dog waiting for a home at the Edmonton Humane Society. Luckily (although bittersweetly so) Miss Francine was adopted before the end of my self-imposed waiting period for driving myself over for the shelter to adopt her. I was in love with her satellite dish ears, and she keeps crossing my mind.
Speaking of satellites, though, I did not anticipate having a dish of my own this week. Sherman had a rough day yesterday.
I got a call from the doggy daycare yesterday that Sherman had been pinned down and bitten by another large dog. Like any momma bear would be, I was upset and worried, but I pulled up my big girl panties and found someone to cover my class (bless my administrator for letting me sneak away for a period) to take Sherm to the vet so his owies could be taken care of.
Before the Sherman lovers out there in Internetland get their hackles up over this unfortunate event, let me remind you Sherman attends an excellent day care where this kind of thing is exceedingly rare. The dog who bit him is (of course) fully-vaccinated, so there is no risk of disease transmission. Also, daycare staff intervened so quickly that Sherm was only bitten once. No other dogs were harmed. First aid procedures were taken immediately, and I was given the full details about the incident. Despite my emotions over the whole thing yesterday, I am impressed with how the daycare staff handled the situation.
As much as it sucks to have an injured dog, this is not something that occurred due to human error. Dogs are animals, after all, and animals are sometimes unpredictable. Anyone who has ever been to an off-leash park knows that. Parents of small kids also know that sometimes weird things happen out of the blue; it’s part of life with any creature. Sherman will be returning to see his friends at daycare as soon as his leg has healed and the vet okays him to play with other pooches. After all, I could never let his buddies see him wearing that goofy cone. The speckled one would never forgive me.
The good news is that Sherman’s injuries are limited to one front leg. He has several punctures as well as scrapes and bruising, but nothing is broken. His pride is also wounded; however, that has more to do with the cone of shame than with his physical condition. The vet explained to me that a dog bite is both a puncturing and a crushing injury, and because of the swelling we can expect and the need to let his body flush out anything introduced into his system by the teeth, Sherman can’t be stitched at this time. I’m doing warm compresses as directed several times a day to help encourage the draining process, and I’m glad there’s no carpet in the dollhouse because he is leaking slowly as anticipated. For the next five days, he’s taking a prescribed pain killer as well as an anti-inflammatory, and his third medication for the next ten days is an antibiotic. So far, Sherman is happy to take his pills as long as they are wrapped in sufficient portions of mild cheddar.
The poor guy kept trying to lick the vet’s face while she shaved his leg to get a better look at the area. As we limped out of the treatment room at the clinic, he slopped a big kiss on a seated vet working on another dog’s teeth. Even on a rough day he’s a ladies’ man.
The medications are making Sherm extra slow and not at all like himself. My peppy pup is a space case on all these good drugs. He seems absolutely mesmerized by the television right now, although he’s never paid it any attention before unless I’m watching a dog program. I’m certainly glad Sherman wants to sleep a lot and let things heal. Poor guy. We have another vet appointment Saturday morning to see how his leg looks from a medical perspective, and hopefully she will declare he is on his way to a full recovery.
In the meantime, he’s quite thrilled about all the cheese.
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