Mabel's Saddest Day

From yesterday morning, presurgery.

I wrote the following yesterday afternoon and last night but didn't post it. Her night was restless, and as of nine this morning, we still can't get her to drink or eat anything. She's drunk only a tiny bit of water between early yesterday evening and now, but she's thrown up twice--once when we took her outside before bedtime and again about half an hour ago--since the first time she threw up, in the car on the way home from the vet's office. The absolute disinterest in any and all food wouldn't worry me so much if she weren't also displaying a complete disinterest in--and refusal of--water. Normally, this dog would drink a river dry if you'd let her. We're worried about her.

***
6/23/08
6:00 p.m.

When I took Mabel to the vet’s office Friday to have her sore paw checked out, at which time we also found out she had a bad case of colitis (by chance, I saw her do her business in the yard as we were on our way out to the car to leave, and I noticed that it looked bad, so I took it in as a sample), I asked the vet what he thought about our pregnancy hypothesis. The overall exam was a pretty quick one, as was the check to see if she was pregnant. But he was sure she wasn’t; he couldn’t feel any puppies, and because she had to be at least 5 weeks along if she was pregnant (and a dog’s gestation period averages only about 63 days), he should have felt something. So, we determined, Mabel was dealing with a false pregnancy. I chalked up her weight gain in the area to false-pregnancy hormones and the fact that we’d been feeding her quite a bit to help her gain weight. (Note the “he” in this paragraph; we didn’t get to see Mabel’s much-loved usual vet.)

I took her in this morning for her spay surgery, and when we went to pick her up late this afternoon, her vet—the usual one we love—pulled us into an exam room to talk about how the surgery had gone. She looked like she’d had a long day. I’m glad I hadn’t yet told you (like I’d already told several other people) that Mabel was just having a false pregnancy.

When the veterinarian performed the surgery, she found nine puppies, she told us with emotion in her voice. Two of them were already dead, and their bodies were doing what bodies do once life is over and could have made Mabel very sick if the pregnancy had continued. The other seven, the doctor said, were very small. Given the shape that sick and starving Mabel was in when we found her and all the intravenous and oral medications she’s had in the last 5 1/2 weeks, there’s really no telling how many of the puppies would have made it in the end or what kind of condition they would have been in upon birth. Carrying the litter to term could have been extremely dangerous for Mabel. And we know too that caring for and finding homes for the surviving puppies likely would have been just impossible for us when we’re so drained already just caring for Mabel and all the other animals we have now. And of course, there are so many dogs, pit bulls especially, out there looking for homes already, adults and puppies alike.

But it is still a terribly sad day. We know that ending the pregnancy was ultimately best—best for Mabel; we can list all the logical reasons in support of that. But for her, our hearts are still heavy, and our eyes are still filled with tears. I believe that she knew she was pregnant. I believe that her heart and her body both were preparing to care for the little lives inside her (indeed, we witnessed some telltale behavior). And I believe that she can now, or will as she comes more and more out of her grogginess, sense that those little lives are gone, and I believe she will mourn that loss, if she isn’t mourning already. So much, so much—she has been through so much. And now there is this, this suddenly having something so natural and good taken from her, an experience that was solely hers, an experience she was anticipating. There are so many reasons that this is what had to happen, yet the guilt I feel is tremendous because I still can't help but feel that today we took from her something that we did not have the right to take from her. Some selfish, abusive humans didn’t get the puppies they wanted to sell, and they'll never again have Mabel to exploit. But Mabel didn’t get the puppies she wanted to love.

She is moaning and crying a high-pitched cry as I write this. I am crying as I write this. It is a room full of pain and sorrow.

***
10:48 p.m.

It is almost 11 p.m. now. I wrote the preceding account several hours ago. The night has been really rough for Mabel, and we haven’t been able to coax her out of her bed for anything. Even getting her outside before bedtime and then—much worse—back in was a nightmare; it turned out to be a matter of forcing her rather than “getting her,” which is incredibly difficult when she’s just had surgery, and we can’t simply or easily pick her up, especially when she won’t even come out of a lying-down or sitting-down position. She is simply refusing to move, and when she was standing outside in the yard, still as stone, staring at me as I begged her to come to me, she looked just like she did the night we found her—frozen in pain and fear. Both when we were trying to get her out of the office and through the kitchen to the back door, to encourage her to go outside, and when I needed to move her from the office to the living room, so that she could sleep next to me (there’s no way she was going to make it to the basement bedroom tonight), her bed had to be dragged across the house with her in it. She’s had very little interest in water tonight and zero interest in even a small amount of food or treats, and a series of efforts to get a Rimadyl down her throat to help with the pain were completely unsuccessful.

More later.

"Now what?" she says.

Mabel goes back to the vet tomorrow morning. This will be her fifth visit in under five weeks. (And the humans here have been to the vet's office for her seven times; two trips involved picking up meds sans Mabel.)

When I let her outside before dinner, I noticed immediately that she was walking with a distinct limp and frequently holding up her back left leg while she stood. Upon inspecting her paw, I found oozy stuff between her toes (and trooper that she is, she handled the inspection very calmly, just slowly pulling the paw away when I touched the part that hurt). So it looks like we have an infection on our hands. She's been off antibiotics for the last few days for the first time since we found her. Back on 'em, we go, I'm sure.

In other news, become of some bodily changes, we're worried she might be pregnant. She was in heat when we found her, but because she was apparently in the proestrus stage, it seemed very unlikely that she could have become pregnant yet, so we didn't give this possibility much thought in the beginning. We're giving it lots of thought now. Her spay surgery is scheduled for Monday. Oy.

First Day of School

Mabel attended her first training class last night (the humans all met last week, prior to bringing in the dogs), and I must say that we were proud! We were among the first to arrive, so the surroundings were still quiet and peaceful (or as quiet and peaceful as is possible when the dog park is located next to the interstate) when we entered the park and greeted two other sets of dog parents and their dogs, and Mabel remained very calm. She cautiously but happily sniffed the other dogs' faces and seemed oblivious to the proximity of the dogs' people (this was before the teachers came into the park and asked us to keep three feet between all dogs at all times, so it was Mabel's first and only chance to interact with the other dogs on this particular night).

We received confirmation that she still feels at ease more immediately with other dogs than she does with other people, and she needs slow introductions to people, ideally in calm environments, but she still did very well. She became scared of approaching people a couple times and so barked a bit and hurried to hide behind us, but she also calmed down with the assistant teacher and let her get close two times after initially barking and hiding (the first time the assistant teacher approached, it was just as an influx of dogs and people suddenly came flowing into the park and toward Mabel, which seemed to overwhelm her). Beyond other factors, last night's events were all happening in a new, busy environment that probably still felt overwhelming to Mabel even by the end of class. When the teacher, who has many years of experience with dogs, came up to Mabel for the first time while she was lying completely down--and thus perhaps feeling too vulnerable to the approach of a stranger--Mabel barked and hid behind us. But a couple weeks ago, when my sister who is not very comfortable with or knowledgeable about dogs came to the house and walked right up to her, Mabel--with Chance at her side--didn't seem to mind at all and just happily stood there waiting to be petted, tail wagging, so it seems likely that her reactions and feelings of fear and safety are strongly influenced, understandably, by the environment in which the introduction takes place and by her physical preparedness to engage in that introduction. I have no doubt whatsoever that this class will help her become more comfortable with and trusting of other humans--we just have to give her time to learn that the vast majority of people want to love her, not hurt her.

But overall, Mabel did great! We've known for a couple weeks now that she's a quick learner, and she showed that again last night. I've said it before, and I'm sure I'll say it plenty more times: she's eager to please. She demonstrated all the homework behaviors we'd practiced in the past week (and the ones we've been practicing on our own since we found her) very well--even despite our sense that we hadn't done enough practicing with her because of the chaotic nature of our lives right now. She calmly and quickly did the things we asked her to, and she seemed completely unnerved by the presence of the other dogs, even when a dog near her repeatedly became excitable and talkative. When we were in the large circle, practicing behaviors, one dog-human set at a time, I could see only one noticeable behavior that differentiated Mabel from the other dogs--the rest of the dogs stood next to or in front of their people and looked out into the circle, facing the other people and dogs. Mabel, however, always stood, sat, or lay facing us. It was as if she didn't give a damn about what was happening behind her--her priority was keeping her eyes (or just "eye," I guess) on us and making sure we didn't go anywhere.

We're excited to see all the progress we know she's going to make in the coming weeks. And just one clarification for any prospective adoptive families out there: I want to point out, as I've done before, that even when Mabel is scared, as in the instances I just mentioned, her instinct is not to be aggressive, not to growl, not to snap, not to lunge forward--her instinct is simply to bark a bit and hide. She doesn't want to go at the person of whom she's scared; she wants to get away. She's not aggressive, just scared, and time, patience, love, and continued exposure to people who want to care for her rather than hurt her are alleviating and will continue to alleviate that fear.

Walking, Sitting, Healing, Cuddling

Have I mentioned that given the opportunity, she will climb all over you and lick your face raw?

We've been using the Gentle Leader for a week or two now (I can't keep track of the time anymore!) on walks, and though Mabel hasn't given up tugging entirely, especially when we first start out down the sidewalk, walks with her are definitely more controlled than they were once we reached the end of her first week here. When she first arrived, and we first started walking, pulling was not a concern at all. She was so baffled by the concept of taking walks around the neighborhood or was so afraid that we were going to run off and leave her when she wasn't looking that she moved very slowly and stayed close to us--too slow and too close almost, stopping and turning her head around or looking up every few seconds to be sure we were still there and causing us to run into her sometimes in the process. But once she felt safer and more comfortable, she started tugging when she wanted to get further ahead to the other dogs or just move faster than we were going. She was anything but thrilled with the head collar at first, but she's tolerating it pretty well now, only rarely pawing at it or rubbing her face against the sidewalk in an attempt to get it off--for example, maybe once or twice during just one of the day's walks instead of every six feet on every one of the day's walks.

She has taken to the "sit" command easily too. She sits when told to much more quickly and consistently than the other dogs around here, and I'm not surprised; she is nothing if not eager to please.

She hasn't tried to jump on any couches or beds in over a week (maybe two weeks), and I'm damn proud of her for that too, especially given that she regularly sees Ella and Sara on the love seat when we corral all four dogs into the living room in the evenings (allowing Ella and/or Sara up there is just about the only way we can keep everyone in the same small area while also giving everyone enough personal space; it also minimizes the chance of whining or wrestling from Ella). It's not that we wouldn't love to have her cuddling next to us--she is a serious, serious cuddler--and hopefully, her permanent family will indeed welcome her onto their couches, but for now, we don't want her to have any habits that might put off her future family or make her transition into their home any more difficult than necessary. For her sake, in terms of other people's reactions to and expectations of her, we want her to jump up on furniture only when she's invited to and not just whenever she feels like it. So she just curls up at my feet on her bed, periodically sitting up so that she can rest her head on my lap or on the couch next to my legs for a while.

And no, I did not misspell "heeling" in the title. I really am talking about her healing, not any kind of training. Her ear flap, a week out from removal of plastic and stitches, looks great. The wounds on her leg and head, including the ones she sustained after joining our household, such as when she took a scary tumble down the deck steps a couple weeks ago (see earlier posts about her left-eye blindness and general clumsiness), are looking much better--another week, and I bet they'll be barely noticeable, if visible at all. She has gained weight steadily and as of a week ago needed to put on just a few more pounds. And the antibiotic that she's been on, without pause, from the beginning--first to fight her ear infections, then to stave off infection in a small leg wound, and now to help clear up a possible skin infection--are doing their thing. The couple small spots where she's had lesions aren't yet covered by hair again, but the skin is no longer red and inflamed. And with our newfound knowledge of her compromised sight and her increasing knowledge of and comfort with her surroundings, I'm relieved to report that there haven't been any more major stumbles or head bangings.

And best of all? She's as happy and funny and loving a dog as ever. She probably won't be quite as happy as usual for a few days next week--she's getting spayed next Wednesday--but I've no doubt that she'll recover quickly from that too; nothing keeps this girl down.

Pass the Soy Cheese, Please

Mabel does not like peanut butter. At all. No other canine around this house ever passes up the stuff--in fact, I'm not sure I've known any dogs who do--but Mabel does. She right away turns up her nose (literally).

She is a great fan, however, of Tofutti Better Than Cream Cheese and doesn't care at all that it comes with a giant antibiotic capsule.

Her Beautiful Eyes: They Tell Even More About Her Than We Thought

It may be that Mabel's a little clumsy. It's hard to say. We certainly have witnessed her simply not paying attention to what's around her when she's excited, but during a visit to get the stitches out of her ear today, I relayed my concerns about her seeming clumsiness and other matters to the vet who has been caring for Mabel since we found her (and who is remarkable in the patience and time she gives us; we love her, and so does Mabel). She listened to me and examined Mabel and was able to tell us within minutes that there's more to Mabel's issues than clumsiness.

Suddenly, her turning into walls sometimes makes sense. Suddenly, we realize why there are times when she acts surprised by something for no apparent reason. There are half a dozen habits and behaviors and incidents on which we are reflecting while saying, "Of course--how could we not have noticed?" because watching her now, it's just so painfully obvious in all of her movements. And I'm horrified now by the number of times I've said in exasperation (as if she could understand me), "Mabel, would you watch where you're going?"

Mabel is blind in her left eye. And normally, even if she'd gone blind in the eye, Mabel's pupil would still constrict in response to light shining into it, but it doesn't; this indicates that the eye is blind as a result of optic nerve damage--which the vet tells us was likely caused by trauma.

Every time we think our hearts have broken for her as much as they can, we figure out another little piece of her sad history.

Now that we know about the blindness in her left eye, we can approach her needs better both in and out of the home (e.g., making sure that when other dogs or people approach to meet her, they don't come from her left and startle her), and we're so sad for her, but we know that she's OK and that there are worse diagnoses. We don't know how long she's been blind in that eye, but she's done fairly well so far, we're sure that she'll get better and better at compensating as time goes on, and now that we know, we can be better about not creating or contributing to circumstances that could be difficult for her. For example, I'm now thinking back to one of the instances when she stumbled down the deck steps--she likes to keep me in sight at all times, and I was accompanying her down the steps on her left side. When she stopped partway down and turned so much that she stumbled down the last step or two, it was because she was trying to see me and had to turn her head and body that far to do so.

Adding another injury to the list of known injuries that Mabel has suffered was not what I wanted to do today, but we're glad to now know what's going on. It will be better now. Everything will be better for her now. That, we are promising her.

The Calm After the Storm

She's been here 2 1/2 weeks now, and I'm amazed at (and grateful for) how much life with Mabel has calmed down. Our routines are not nearly back to normal, and B. and I still haven't both left the house for any real length of time (twice, we've taken walks around the neighborhood while leaving Mabel in her crate to see how she does: the first time, she calmed down after a while; the second time, she was still howling away by the time we had to come back inside). But it's definitely, absolutely better today than it was two weeks ago. This week, for the first time since she came to us, I feel like I might even be able to work a halfway normal schedule, without falling too much further behind. She's clearly feeling at home these days, and she's calmer. Tomorrow, her stitches come out, and the plastic comes off her ear flap. Then we schedule her spaying.

We're learning more about her every day, but what has become more obvious than perhaps anything else (beyond her sweetness) in the last couple weeks is that this sweet dog is an absolute klutz. It's as if she has no concept of space, no realization of what surrounds her. She steps on--and sits on--Chance (and is lucky that Chance is so laid-back). She turns and shakes her head right into walls and door frames. She tumbles down the steps from the deck to the yard. She made herself bleed twice over the course of just 5 or 6 days. The first time even required a late-night visit to our regular vet (not the vet who usually sees Mabel, whose office was closed), who--perhaps overhearing me mention the possibility to Brandi just before she came into the exam room--said she didn't see any signs of neurological problems. I'm not entirely convinced that there isn't something more going on, but it does seem possible that Mabel really is just clumsy and awkward--and so curious and excited about what's happening around her that she just doesn't pay enough attention to what's stationary around her or to where her body is going.

But she's getting a little better--at least with the steps. With help, she's learning to take them slowly, one step at a time, and I'm doing my best to make sure she's not distracted while she goes down them. She hasn't fallen down or stumbled on them in at least a couple days, which is definite progress. But she's still periodically sitting on Chance.

More of Mabel (Or At Least More of My Underwear) Than You Ever Wanted to See

As I've mentioned before, when Mabel arrived almost two weeks ago, she was still in the part of her heat cycle during which she discharges blood. And on her first full day here, we decided that we had to do something to keep her from dripping all over as she walked around the house.

Brandi asked if I had any old underwear. I did. I had an old pair that I hadn't worn in a long time in part because I switched to a more comfortable style at some point and in part because the material was torn from the band in one place.

So with some scissors, a bread tie, a menstrual pad, and my unmentionables, we made Mabel a diaper.

She looked ridiculous but, luckily, didn't have to wear the contraption more than a day. I never thought I'd be posting photos of my underwear on the Internet, but I'm sure Mabel never expected to be wearing them either. The poor girl looks humiliated, doesn't she?


(By the way, the makeshift diaper wasn't on quite right in these photos. I fixed it later. And as it turned out, that hole between the fabric and the band was the perfect place for Mabel's tail to stick out.)

Mabel's Debut

Yes, I did it. I gave Mabel her own blog. The posts that first appeared on my Vida blog are now copied here too. I may continue posting her updates on Vida as well, but here, all the Mabel posts will be featured together without interruptions by posts about family, food, environment, or other non-Mabel topics.

The Jingling! The Jingling!

Mabel has a tag now--which must be a first because it completely freaked her out for the first five minutes she was wearing it. She was a dog on high alert as she threw her head about and zoomed around in circles trying to figure out what that jingling was. Where the HELL is that coming from?! said her wide, confused eyes. Twice she gave up and settled down, only to be startled up onto her feet again by her own small movements. It was a tiny bit sad, but also hilarious. I wish I could have captured her reaction on video; still shots don't do it justice. That was a couple days ago. She doesn't even notice it now (the freak-out really did last only a few minutes).

By the way, yes, we've settled on the name Mabel. I still like Maybelle (as in "May beauty") better, but B. doesn't, and Mabel is better than Maybel (Maybull wasn't ever seriously in the running). We hadn't really decided on this, but suddenly, we were purchasing her tag and realized we had to put a name on it--a name, not multiple names separated by slashes. So . . . Mabel. Unless I decide to get her a new tag. ;)