Now scrub good an' hard

So, I’ve washed my hands with Dettol, TCP, Hibiscrub and bleach, but they still feel unclean. The reason is that Clover’s very ill indeed; yesterday morning she didn’t finish her breakfast, and was reluctant to go for a walk. Ned took the others and she and I ambled on a short walk, but plodded slower and slower until she finally ground to a halt and had to be carried home. Her temperature at that time was 103.2°; a dog’s normal temperature is 101° - she wasn’t well. Of course, surgery in the village was over, so I called the main surgery in Leamington and told them we were on our way.

By the time we were seen her back legs had given way completely and her temperature was up to 104. Bloods were taken and AB and anti-inflammatory injections given and we came away with a further supply of tablets. Yesterday lunchtime she had a little drink then went back to sleep. When I got home soon after six there was no improvement – in fact she’d continued downhill and was barely conscious, so again I warned Leamington we were on our way. This time we weren’t expecting to bring her home so I rang Boy to warn him.

When her temperature was next taken it was 105.6° - the vet was surprised she was still alive. His examination of her tummy (it's not easy trying to hold up a dog who's legs are like a puppet with cut strings) released a flood of wee (the second of my dogs to wee on him!) but no hint as to what was wrong. The bloods had shown normal apart from an extremely low white blood count pointing to a massive infection. But he still thought there was hope, so we came back again (Boy was relieved – we got Clover when he was six and she’s more his dog than anyone’s) with instructions to keep her hydrated. It’s not easy syringing fluid into someone’s mouth when they can barely swallow.

At 5.30 this morning when I woke she was still alive, which was a pleasant surprise. Her temperature was down to 102.6° and she was a lot more responsive. The day’s been spent squirting hydrating fluid into her and buttering AB tablets to make them slide down her throat. She’s certainly stronger this evening; she’s managed to stagger round the garden and squat for a wee, and best of all went over to the bowl for a drink of water all by herself. Unfortunately the action of taking fluid in one end causes the most disgusting vileness to ooze from the other which needs immediate mopping up, hence my obsessive hand-washing.

She’s by no means out of the woods yet; we can but hope.