To be fair, the act of writing a blog comes second to a lot of other things. I've learned to accept in life that technology is not my life wholly and that it takes effort to make a go at these things.
So it was with life this past year - If you look back a post you'll see a tribute to the men who led me down the path I'm on. One of those men; my grandfather, passed away this July - shortly after the post was written. Not much to do but move on, I guess.
The other big endeavor has been my first dog, Willow.
We've had a good year so far - spending time hiking, working on force retrieve and generally finding our stride together. She;s come a long way, and while I have no misgivings about her as a becoming a top hunter, I am happy to have a friend in the woods. She jumps off a dog like a champ and she fetches reliably though not with the drilled perfection of some dogs.
Still, at three years old, she has lived a lot - two weeks before Halloween, we put her on birds as well as I could have ever hoped, but still my shooting was not up to task. I was watching the dog and I couldn't connect well. With a bum knee, I walked 7 miles - Willow surely walked more. We left the woods that day with more than we came - nearly 40 deer ticks would be found from her fur that day and in days following. Let that be a lesson to everyone in the woods in the fall - the only ticks out in October are deer ticks so remove em quick from yourself.
That same week, Kim and I brought Willow in for a routine checkup at the vet. There we found she had chipped a tooth. Dumb labs - and I say this with all affection in the world - they keep plugging along in spite of any pain. Never would I have guessed how true that concept was to a lab than in the days following. The tooth needed to be removed. Without hesitation, we scheduled the appointment for the following Monday. Typical surgery, Willow came home and we pampered her by letting her relax and slacking off on our obedience a bit. She was a dopey sort of loveable though and this was fine. The following morning, we dosed her with the prescribed pain meds (Metacam) and went about our day. We returned home to find a wet piece of real estate in the house. No worries, the dog was doped up, so if she was tired and peed, this was not normal, but not unheard of. Waking up the next morning, we discovered another wet spot, odd, but not alarming, I looked into the issue and found some troubling information, but decided to be rational and call the vet. I didn't mean to be alarmed, and felt no need, but this kind of issue can happen, however rare in dogs.
We discontinued meds, not quite sure what the connection was. The wetting continued - only in her sleep though. She drank tons of water, and went out frequently; but if she was left alone or slept at night, she wet. Two days elapsed and we were concerned, so we made an appointment with our vet. That following morning, Willow was given some tests. The look on the face of the vet is etched in my brain when they let us know she needed to be hospitalized - concerned and unsure about where this would end up, they wanted us to take the steps to improve our pup's condition. With no hesitation, we were given our marching orders for the next portion of the day. She would stay until 530 PM getting fluids, at which time we would transfer her for care at an emergency hospital for overnight care. I was floored. I am no parent. I have never owned a pet, but this [without being overly dramatic] shit was getting REAL, really quick. No one said the diagnosis - perhaps the words sounded to serious, but we would later call this Acute Renal Failure. In simple terms, her Kidneys stopped working: now.
The next 24 hours were tense. We would be given a glimmer of hope, but our own minds would race and find a way to guard against false hope. In my case, this meant a nasty spiral mentally that resulted in a tightness in my core and frustration I have never known. For Kim and I, this meant trying our best to support each other, though I fear at some points, I was not as supportive as I needed supporting.
That was Thursday - Friday resulted in an improvement at the vet. We administered subcutaneous fluids and went home with our patient. It was good to have her home, even if she was not herself. She drank a lot of fluids, she peed a lot. She continued to wet in her sleep. Saturday morning another vet visit. By this time, Willow knew the drill, and the inevitable location of the thermometer was no surprise, even if it wasn't comfortable. Her results this time, however were less than ideal - a backslide, however small, is nothing we wanted to hear. We spent the day in worry. I clammed up, and was rather a pain in the ass. I am a fool for my dog - and at 3, I wasn't ready to face the inevitability of losing her. We gave fluids one more time, my dog looking like a camel with 1 liter of fluid in her back, and I went to work.
Sunday we thought about what to do next. Tried to pretend everything was alright and had some crappy conversations about our next steps. See, Kim's a thinker; I shoot from the hip. This is fine if you want to decide where to have dinner, but does not bode well for life and death situations. Where do we go from here? We didn't really know. Only Monday's tests could show the path.
Monday, we worked. Thank God. I should also note that we have the most gracious neighbors in the world (Seriously, I wish everybody could have friends like these). One person in particular, Rick, offered to let Willow out every couple hours. Rick walks Willow daily usually, and it is so appreciated with our sometimes hectic schedules. He often lets Willow out to play with her buddy Callahan and burn some energy off... Still, I could have cried when I pulled up on Halloween afternoon to see Rick sitting in a lawn chair in his driveway, and as I backed into the garage, my dog comes ripping up. I was a little ticked she couldn't sit away from the truck: after all, we had worked on this before, BUT, there was my girl in decent spirits, and a good friend watching out for my family. Shortly thereafter, we took Willow to the vet for another round of tests, scales, thermometers and waiting. This time however, the news was good. She was back within normal range. The next few days were touch and go - she was not perfect nor her normal self, though we lacked the worry of the past 7 days. I can now confidently say that she's nearing normal again and we will continue our fall and hunting season, but without any urgency. We've got today and that's all that matters.
This weekend I missed deer hunting. Work, life and other things transpired - I've got a new skill to work on for hunting that I will detail in the coming months: it seems I am a beginner again. Despite all this, it's another day. Ultimately, hunting is what grounds me, and many others. A connection to the world around us, and that's all that matters.
Gun. Dog. Woods or Waters.
What more do you need? If at the end of your day, there's some meat to share with family, that's all you can ask for.
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