Playin' Rough; Pettin' & Frettin'

Chewy and I are relaxing this morning... and will be relaxing all day.

The Girl has a broken toe. We were at the emergency vet last night, until about midnight. She's okay -- and while our training will be slowed -- and her Alerting won't begin until she's better -- it shouldn't set us back too far.

After dinner, Chewy was out doing her business. I'd been low, and we did the requisite breathing exercises to start to teach her what *i* smell/taste like when my blood sugar drops... and after, we went out to do it. She went, and we kept walking around the building until we came to this gazebo area, where a bunch of folks were hanging. It's about 8-30, 8-45pm... and we're chillin. Two of the dogs are running -- Jen from California's dog, Jai, a cheeky chicky bright shepherd mix... and Odie, a 3 year old, usually slow moving Collie male, who belongs to Neal from Oregon, and his wife Kim.

I took Chew off vest -- i wanted to run her a bit too -- and she goes and plays, and they're running hard. It got a bit rough -- at one point, Jai tried approached another dog -- a black Lab named Tank -- who is -- and who's with a 4 year old and her parents from Florida -- who had a toy under his legs.

(This is like canine soap opera stuff. Boring, but you can't turn away.)

Jai grabbed at it; Tank grabbed at her, for a split second, with that loud intense double barking that scares the quiet, crickety night and low thrum of chatter. Tank went inside and Odie and Jai and Chewster, then, again, pranced and galloped and tried to buck the imaginary kittens off their rodeo-twisting dogbacks. They were running hard -- with some apparent nips and dog play... played some fetch, 3 on 1, as well... for about 15 minutes, maybe 20.

After, Chewy was standing near me, panting, looking around for a rock to eat likely since I seem to stand near a lot of delicious igneous (and don't even ask me about the scrumptious sticks i attract)... and Kim, Odie's handler's wife, who's a vet tech (and reminds me in wonderful ways, of a dear friend in Vancouver who's the same) -- Kim noticed Chew had her right rear leg raised.

A first.

What happened? Kim asks me. I am dumbfounded. I don't know, I say. She was fine... when we came out here... though when she was doing her business, I was on the phone with my pal Tom in Oklahoma. Maybe I missed something??...

We walk her up to the gazebo and lay her down, and Kim feels her right rear toes, one by one... and the outside toe is a little... 'crunchy' feeling when we wiggle it. There's something off. It's not smooth. Chew reacted slightly when we moved it -- as if it did not in fact hurt all that much -- but that, I'd later learn, was just adrenaline.

We lay there and I petted and fretted for a while... left Michele a message... talked to some folks... and Chewy is still unabashedly Chewie during this, looking to eat rosebushes and red stick mulch. But when we went inside the hotel, to walk down the long carpeted first floor hallway to our castle suite, her right rear leg was held high.

She was three legged.

Yes, it's cute, but it ain't funny.

She was off vest and still moving slowly -- usually, off vest and she's skipping around without my direction. We got to my room, each sweating, and she lay down near the doorway, and her eyes suddenly look very sad. I lay and pet her, fretting more, and tell her she's gonna be okay.

Michele calls when she gets back from her errand -- 10-45pm -- and her daughter Alice -- who's 15, and trained Chuy, and in whose bed Chuiy slept for 35 or 40 weeks, until last week -- imagine that bond broken? God. Alice loves this dog, and it's in her eyes daily -- but she's also very proud of having.... um. Raised her. Thank goodness for her; for them. ......

So they come and feel her toe, Michele's talking to the emergency vet as she walks in, and she feels it, and says, "Let's go. Alice, carry her out. I'll pull the van around. Now."

Alice picks her up - she's 52 pounds -- and I am scrambling behind. We go out front. We're waiting for Michele to bring the van, and I say, 'I just walked out without all my stuff!'

Go get it, Alice says. I sprint back, grab my backpack, take off my around-the-hotel-compound shorts that don't hide my boxers, and pull on jeans, and sprint back. Chewy's in back with Alice, I climb in front, and Michele peels towards the vet, 15 minutes down the highway, past the state capital building.

Vet's a middle aged guy who's not happy to be out of bed, but he's smart, Michele says, and good, and knows all of her dogs.

Chewster! he says. What'd you do, silly goofus? Didn't I just see you?

I had carried her inside, and put her down, and she looks at me and stands there, kind of looks around to all four of us human beings, one by one.

She knew she was where she was.

After Doc watched her walk a bit -- limping gimpily, looking utterly silly, but still sweet and curious -- just not as curious... I lifted her onto the x-ray table. Alice held her, i looked at her eyes and patted her, Doc placed the foot, and Michele pressed The Button. ZZZZZ sounded, and we lifted her off.

X-ray #1 verdict: inconclusive. A thin line that could be a fracture could also be a fold of skin; intuition at this point, Doc said, is No Break. I breathed easier.

I should say... I was indeed quite nervous about this. Firstly, when dogs are ill in any way, they don't alert, and training dips. And not alerting is okay once alerting is starting to happen... but at the beginning, i was afraid they'd send me home until October (the next class), or switch to another dog -- and I'm already... attached to her.

One can fall quickly, eh? (Don't I know it). (Again, and again). Falling for someone... or a dog someone... is both a place, and a process.

I'm falling.

True: I'm not sure if she's calling ME 'daddy' yet... but I didn't want another dog. And missing a day or two of training is one thing; a week, is another, and I knew they'd be assessing. Is Chew gonna hang in a newsroom, trek up to Napa, ride the N-Judah, prance in Golden Gate Park, see the Pacific, chill in countless coffee shops? Fly to LA to visit all my pals, head to Chicago to see my folks and niece and nephew and brother and sister in law, all of my friends and friends and friends and friends and blessed, loving, hearty, homestaying friends... I wanted Choo there with all of em, each of em, all and each and every.

So, the 'inconclusive / no break' chatter lifted my heart.

She sat next to me, waiting like we all were for what's next. A bird shrieked; a cat howled. Chuey being Chewy would mean she'd react, ears perked, eyes darting, looking for magic birdcat.

She didn't. She sat, sadly looked at me. Phillyphil, her eyes said. Let's go.

X-ray 2 required her laying down, and Alice lifted her, rolled her expertly (she's 15... and will be an amazing vet someday), as Doc splayed her bad foot. I patted her, whispered, wondered. ZZZZZZZ. Took her down. She bounced three-leggedly towards the Cat Room, bit we caught her and went to wait.

X-ray #2 verdict: probably a break, though still inconclusive.

I was looking at another x-ray on the light board. Doc noticed me. "That's a ferret elbow," he said. "Jumped off a high table." I shook my head. Where in hell am i?

Michele and Doc had a good rapport, too, and i had utter confidence in him... he was tired, and unhappy not to be sleeping as we neared midnight, but he was cool. They had a funny little makin' fun of each other thing going. I laughed along; Alice just smiled. It wasn't funny, and i was worried, but I liked that they weren't stricken. They weren't, so i wasn't.

Just like they teach us that Your Emotions Travel Down The Leash, to the dog -- if you're not confident, the dog won't be; if you're anxious, pooch will be as well -- Michele and Doc being as cool as they were, kept me okay.

X-ray #3 was again a lay-down, and it came back with a clear, Broken, verdict. Hairline fracture with a chip of bone, off.

She also has a bite mark on her thigh, and it felt warm, and bruised -- she was likely wrastlin' around with Odie or Jai, and got playfully chomped, and maybe her toe caught in a collar. Just a guess. Just a fluke. Life's a fluke. What a word. What a world.

We weighed her -- 52.1 pounds; still growing -- and Doc gave her some narcotics-by-injection, and some meds (anti-inflammatory) for three weeks -- which will, i said softly out loud, include time back in the Bay Area, Chewster's new home, hopefully -- she has no clue what a city is like, and she's gonna be like a belle just off the bus, bright lights reflecting each way off her eyes.

She's to stay off the leg for a few days -- we'd go to class, but not to the Mall for our field work, and none of our videotaping exercises... just the scent work (using my socks) and teaching her to bump my hand with her nose when i put it out (which will be an Alert signal eventually).

We have two days off -- Michele said it could end up being good bonding time, and be a disguised blessing.

Doc said this should heal completely, and NOT cause arthritis later -- and also, her favoring it for a few days, will not displace her hips negatively, either, which could have happened (and would have if it was an interior toe). If that was the case... they might have switched out dogs. Why train and bond with an alert dog that would have it's span of alerting shortened by several, or even many years?

Lucky, lucky, lucky. I breathed silently.

We drove home, and back in our empty classroom, nearing 1:00 a.m., Michele taped her leg with gauze, just to keep the toes bunched right. Chewy tried to eat the tape, but i stopped her... and when we finally got to my room - she didn't need the bano -- she hopped right into bed, and lay flat, sighing, Woe is me. Though she did wag as I called her Good Girl and scratched her ears. She again started to eat off the tape on her bum toe -- green medical tape, with a white cover -- looked kinda cool, like a sweatband. I wouldn't let her eat it, though, and soon she was zonked.

They said she'd be groggy in the morning, and she was. We kept on sleeping -- she didn't seem to have to go out -- and we caught up a bit on rest... I was overly affectionate, and she was sweeter than honey, even more than usual... I woke up a few times, and she was looking at me, and I'd open my eyes and she'd wag, wag, wag, wag, wag. Cutest. Thing. Evuh.

Today, we went to class -- everyone thought she was extra cute, and she was walking pretty good on three legs, hoppity hoppity sniff, hoppity hoppity stop, hoppity hoppity hop. She was chill, but we did the few things we could. Then we came back here and she's asleep after a viergous nylabone session.

We played some hard fetch Thursday night; she was clearly improving.

Hopefully, she'll be back able to walk and videotape and such by Saturday. She likes the video. Shannon, with Gwen the big brown lab, shot Chewy and I yesterday... she was okay. But when I was shooting Shan and Gwen on video, Chewy kept getting in the shot.

We did this "food temptation" stuff, where they toss food at the dog -- turkey slices, which they love. It lands inches from their nose. If they move towards it, we snap the collar. If they grab it, we rip it from their lips. It's heartbreaking... but Chew was good at it, incredibly. She would lay there with three pieces of turkey.. right there. And when a fourth came, she'd sit up and look the other direction. 'Three I can take, Mister... but four is my boundary, so I'm gonna bust my gaze yonder..'

When it was Gwen's turn, Gwen stayed, but Chewy trotted in an nabbed the food. I grabbed it out, and she looked at me as if to say, She's not allowed to eat it and i already passed the test... what the heck? Why waste good Schnucks turkey slices?

She wandered into most of Gwen's shots, like Borat with the weatherman in Mississippi... and I'd snap and say, stage whispery, Chewy! Get! Over! There!.. and she'd look at me, see the red in my eyes, and lay down.

We'll return to that stuff, hopefully Saturday. As she rests, we're renting a bunch of Sandra Bullock movies, and i'm making my special liver flavored popcorn.

She'll be okay. We both will.