Last Thursday, we took the plunge. We rescued a lab mix puppy from our local shelter. We rescued Audrey and in doing so rewarded Kate for a nothing short of miraculous turnaround in algebra.
My sister says rescue dogs are grateful, and that's why they make such good pets. Maybe. Sounds like a bit of a stretch to me, Banker Sister. But admittedly, my sister had perhaps the most wonderful dog I have ever known. She rescued Bogey, and in return, he brought smiles to her family for more than ten years. Bogey and My Banker Sister inspired me to adopt. And seemingly following in Bogey's footsteps, Audrey definitely was well-behaved, smart, sweet, loving, happy....playful. At least until Tuesday.....some five days post rescue......she was well-behaved, sweet, loving, happy...playful. Suddenly, Tuesday night, everything changed. Audrey changed. Audrey became violently sick. She stopped eating or drinking. Even scarier, Audrey stopped playing. She was, almost instantaneously, a different dog. We all knew. We knew before the adoption that she might have been exposed to parvo. We knew, but five days with this pup made us forget. This sweet, playful dog couldn't possibly be sick. But suddenly, she was. We couldn't bear to think it. No one dared to say it. But we knew.......
Wednesday morning at 6:00 am found me calling every vet in the area. Who opened earliest? Who could see us soonest? I had a scheduled meeting. It would have to wait. Audrey and I were at the vet at 7:45. The usual check-in questions. Roll call of our other pets. Yes, we still have Joe, Satchmo, and Landen. Sadly, Koko passed away. How old is Audrey....I don't know. What breed is she......lab....I don't know....lab something. They gave up with questions. I couldn't answer them anyway. They tested. They didn't need to. I already knew. And when they confirmed the worst, I still broke down. A fifty year old woman in sweat pants and no make-up before 8:00 on a day she is scheduled to be in a meeting crying as if there were no tomorrow....over a puppy I didn't know a week ago. How could this baby pup who had in a week brought so much joy to Kate and to our family be sick and fighting for survival? How could my Kate Bug be faced with yet another of life's catastrophes? How and why is so much thrown in one young girl's....in my girl's.... direction?
I barely heard the vet say 50% chance of survival. In the back of my mind I remember him asking if we wanted to try....if we wanted to treat. I wasn't about to give up on Kate's pup, on Audrey, without a fight. Yes, of course, they would do all they could. I vaguely remember a veterinary assistant saying perhaps Audrey's mom was a floosie. How do you spell that anyway, and was it absolutely necessary to question Audrey's lineage at this particular point in time?
I left Audrey at the vet. I clung to the empty blanket I now carried, wondering what the next few hours and day would bring. I tried to imagine how I could explain to Kate if Audrey didn't survive the treatment. I knew there simply would be no words. I dreaded the prospect. She and I have had far too many of these conversations already.
Thursday, one week post adoption, brought us a new outlook and a little hope. Audrey is improving. Still not eating, but no longer nauseous. Now standing, where yesterday she could or would only lie. And is that a wagging tail....yesterday, I wasn't sure we would ever see that.
We aren't there yet. We have a ways to go. But today is a day of optimism and hope for more "weeks with Audrey" in our future.
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