To make things worse, I made a big boo-boo.
You see, when I took the pups in for their nail trims, I failed to have Samson's nails done, since I figured he would be able to be groomed quite soon. Nope!
Our groomer at the local doggie spa had decided to move away with her man. Uh huh.
This means NO Saturday groomings. No Saturday nail clippings. All must be done before 3:30 pm weekdays. All must be done after 730 am weekdays.
Well, if you're anything like me, you may work. I leave for work around 645 (on a good day) and leave work after 330 (on a bad day). This means I need to put everything I have into getting these guys in to the new groomer at the spa. Arrrg!
So, I made an appointment with the groomer for Xmas week, when I didn't have to go in to work.
As time progressed, Samson seemed to be getting a little less athletic at the park.
As time progressed, Samson seemed to be growing lethargic on our walks.
I began to suspect Glandularloma, which may be affecting him. But that seemed to be going away.
I shuddered to think there was something spinal, as my Cubby, the schipperke, died 4 years ago this coming January 16 from paralysis, due to a spinal injury. Please God! Don't let this be.
So, the past few days, on our walks, I've been watching him. I've been apologizing to him for the nails which seem to have grown too long for any dog, and I watch him closely for tell-tale signs of spinal injury.
Two days ago, as we walked home on our walk, he stopped completely, and I had to carry him several blocks, until we were near home. He was fine with this. I also noted he kept going to his boojoo (I'm sure you can figure that one out), and there was some discomfort there. I realized I hadn't seen him take a poo in a while...Hmmmmmm.
This morning, on our walk, on our very abbreviated walk, we were in the forested greenspace two blocks from home. Sammy suddenly seemed slumped over. His back end was sloped down, and I began to fear the worst. I tried to encourage him to join the rest of the pack, but he was quite reluctant. When he finally managed to get to us, I knelt down and tried to scoop him up. Ooooo! The screaming from him woke the dead!
He began screaming in agony and it wasn't until I had him sitting in my arms against my chest he stopped. I then proceeded home, dragging the other 3 (about 220 pounds that went in all directions) with me. We made it home, and on the front stoop, I placed him down. Rusty brushed against him, and he yelped again. I was heartsick. I couldn't lose another pup like that (spinal injury) again!
Once inside, he sat watching me. I could tell he was in pain. But he wasn't telling me anything was all that wrong. So I tried the one major test that would tell me if he was going to be okay - breakfast.
He went to his bowl, once it was ready, and he ate (Of course I had put a doggie aspirin in it, as well). Once finished, he sat next to me, as I ate, and then he slowly trotted off to the bedroom with me.
.
Now that I could see he would eat, I knew he was going to be okay for the day. He then leapt up to the bed, which told me it wasn't anything spinal - at least not for now.
When I left for work, he was surrounded by pillows and blankets, and had his Timmy Mouse with him. He actually looked content.
I was trembling when I returned, hoping all was well at home. I opened the door to.....Samson on his hind legs welcoming me home, along with Skally, Simon and a very energetic and barking Rusty. I was sooooo relieved and happy.
I also noted that he had pooped in the dining room (very easy to clean up), and was going about his business as usual.
Could he have become constipated from all the treats I've been lavishing upon my brood? Probably. As he weighs less than 1/2 that of any of the others, I need to be sure he gets less than 1/2 the amount of anything they get. But he also needs more roughage than they, as well.
He is sitting and watching me as I write this, waiting for dessert. Ach!
Still, though, he will have his nails done on Monday with the rest of the grooming, and from there we'll begin to see signs of a happier dog.
I swear, I can't recall a time I've been this embarrassingly remiss about my pups' nails, either.
I know he forgives me - the hard part is to forgive myself, and to keep the vet's number near me at all times.
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