Felicity
Felicity our Bulldog is a healthcare fiasco. We've spent more than we are willing to sum on her care. We adopted her last summer, when I was on a leave from work because the kids had been adopted. She came from a rescue organization, having had a sad history. Hot mess was a generous term....she had crate terror, uncovered after we hired-yes-wait for it- a dog behaviorist....Having spent her life in a puppy mill, crates were hell, even if they were found in my laundry room. After traveling all over the country with her on our vacation, learning that she does not even like the most classy of hotels, we admitted Felicity was ours, we were stupid, and she needed to chill.
She's still here. And frankly, much to my own dismay and challenge, I love her. She's a medical nightmare. After many vet visits, we headed to NC State for a final diagnosis....she has a genetic disorder that causes cysts all over her body. While likely benign, there is no cure. I assure you, we pushed. 4 vets at NC state from across the globe confirmed.
So, we are in maintenance mode. Managing the care of a bulldog with a chronic illness. I make jokes, I dress her up, I call her funny names, but at the end of the day---this is sad. Felicity had several litters at a puppy mill before one cyst became so bad she was abandoned by her owner at animal control, where the rescue found her.
And that's why I am ridiculous about her. Since the day I met this silly dog, she's been so happy to be part of my crazy pieced together family. She loves us. Felicity loves to wake the kids up every morning. She sleeps in her bed beside mine.
Here's the thing-she's not smart. Felicity is not beautiful-in fact, some might use some not so great words to describe her. She farts. She pukes from time to time. Felicity eats in the garage because she lacks basic table manners.
But she's my dog. And that's why last weekend, we took her camping. She slept beside Isaiah in the tent. She even came to the bathroom with me. She snored. Felicity got in someone else's tent. She sat by the fire.
But by Sunday night, one of the cysts on her neck had grown, and it was clear something was wrong. Bob took the lead, and found someone to operate. That abscess meant Felicity came home with 60 stitches across her neck and back.
Two days later, after focused care, in an inadvertent move, Felicity went to scratch her ear, and she pulled her stitches. Saturday AM found Bob driving, Felicity and I in the back, solid compress on her neck to hold the bleeding until we could get to the vet. She was stitched up, and came home.
Today she returned to the vet and had more stitches put in to hold the wound. Felicity is supposedly recovering and looking better, as medicine would define.
Something about watching this poor animal endure this crazy medical mess and not being able to talk to her really about it (because, you know, she's a DOG!) has made me so upset. I hate this for her. I have found myself in tears a lot, moved by the pain I see her feeling as noted by her trembling.
So it's a mess. The dog is ok, but a mess. Felicity is tired, on tons of medication that Bob and I can barely keep track of, and the kids pray for her every night.
But we love her. And we chose her. She didn't ask for any of this. She's just an innocent creature. It's my prayer that we can help her, and whatever time Felicity has on earth as part of our family, she's enjoying it. She's snoring, she's farting and trying to get on the couch. Felicity is trying to get the turkey under the table, and she's greeting everyone when we walk. She reminds me that life is simple and friendship is real.
xoxo Sweet Dog. Let's get you up the stairs and to bed.
She's still here. And frankly, much to my own dismay and challenge, I love her. She's a medical nightmare. After many vet visits, we headed to NC State for a final diagnosis....she has a genetic disorder that causes cysts all over her body. While likely benign, there is no cure. I assure you, we pushed. 4 vets at NC state from across the globe confirmed.
So, we are in maintenance mode. Managing the care of a bulldog with a chronic illness. I make jokes, I dress her up, I call her funny names, but at the end of the day---this is sad. Felicity had several litters at a puppy mill before one cyst became so bad she was abandoned by her owner at animal control, where the rescue found her.
And that's why I am ridiculous about her. Since the day I met this silly dog, she's been so happy to be part of my crazy pieced together family. She loves us. Felicity loves to wake the kids up every morning. She sleeps in her bed beside mine.
Here's the thing-she's not smart. Felicity is not beautiful-in fact, some might use some not so great words to describe her. She farts. She pukes from time to time. Felicity eats in the garage because she lacks basic table manners.
But she's my dog. And that's why last weekend, we took her camping. She slept beside Isaiah in the tent. She even came to the bathroom with me. She snored. Felicity got in someone else's tent. She sat by the fire.
But by Sunday night, one of the cysts on her neck had grown, and it was clear something was wrong. Bob took the lead, and found someone to operate. That abscess meant Felicity came home with 60 stitches across her neck and back.
Two days later, after focused care, in an inadvertent move, Felicity went to scratch her ear, and she pulled her stitches. Saturday AM found Bob driving, Felicity and I in the back, solid compress on her neck to hold the bleeding until we could get to the vet. She was stitched up, and came home.
Today she returned to the vet and had more stitches put in to hold the wound. Felicity is supposedly recovering and looking better, as medicine would define.
Something about watching this poor animal endure this crazy medical mess and not being able to talk to her really about it (because, you know, she's a DOG!) has made me so upset. I hate this for her. I have found myself in tears a lot, moved by the pain I see her feeling as noted by her trembling.
So it's a mess. The dog is ok, but a mess. Felicity is tired, on tons of medication that Bob and I can barely keep track of, and the kids pray for her every night.
But we love her. And we chose her. She didn't ask for any of this. She's just an innocent creature. It's my prayer that we can help her, and whatever time Felicity has on earth as part of our family, she's enjoying it. She's snoring, she's farting and trying to get on the couch. Felicity is trying to get the turkey under the table, and she's greeting everyone when we walk. She reminds me that life is simple and friendship is real.
xoxo Sweet Dog. Let's get you up the stairs and to bed.
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