Fergress Report

O-o-oh No-o-o! It’s Mr. Vet Bill!

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I think if I sold the lumber from an entire white pine, I would get less money than we’ve shelled out these past two weeks because of little Fergus having chewed on one measly pine cone. And yes, I am willing to pay for having him happy and healthy once again; I’m just saying that a puppy’s natural instincts can sometimes lead to unnatural amounts of misery. As Livingisdetail put it the other day, this is a cautionary tale.

Yesterday afternoon, two weeks after the pine cone dismantlement, Fergus vomited up two bits of it, as well as a stem — I’m not sure if it’s from an old maple leaf he picked up on the balcony, or an apple stem, but it’s half an inch long (it’s sitting on a dime for size perspective). In the photo above you can see those three bits of flora along with a piece of puppy tooth I found on the living room floor. Fergus is being pummeled from all sides of his digestive system just now.

Anyway, after his evening meals (small portions spaced an hour apart), Fergus started getting a gassy tummy again. E.g. watched him until about 1 in the morning, when Cai, who had gone to bed with me, bounced downstairs to see how the others were. We have two tall plastic bins for our recyclables, which we have been placing in front of the stairs so Fergus won’t go upstairs. Now Cardis, being built long and low, don’t do so well at stopping in mid-staircase. Cai either ran right into the bins or tried to leap over them at the last minute. No, I didn’t sleep through nine petfood tins and seven ginger ale cans hitting the hall floor, thanks for asking. At least Cai didn’t hurt himself.

I sent E.g. to bed and took up the watch; Fergus finally settled down after a goodly chuck-up at 03:00. So we called our brand-new vets, with whom we had already booked an appointment for Saturday, and they saw us this morning at 09:00.

I feel that Fergus will be better monitored by professionals than by E.g. and me. And by Saturday, we’ll have results from a blood test to see if he has pancreatitis (speaking of big red puffy things…) .

This isn’t much of an entry today, but I have twenty minutes to phone Jack’s Mom, take Cai out for a potty break, and maybe even brush my teeth before I need to be at work. Please send up nice thoughts for Fergus, who will eventually be all right, but has been having a little more misery lately than anybody could wish on a puppy.

11 Responses to Fergress Report

  1. goodbear says:

    i totally thought of fergus last night. i’m glad you have been sharing this latest development because miss pickles found her first pine cone last night and she was VERY excited. excited…then mad at me for taking it away.

  2. Shelley says:

    Oh no, not another bad night 😦

    Wishing the little guy a speedy recovery. Let me know please how he is doing. He’s in good hands with Dr. John.

  3. eyegillian says:

    I know, it’s a sad tale, but I’m still laughing at your cutline. Anybody remember Mr. Bill from Saturday Night Live? (OK, I ‘fess up, I only saw one episode, but it was all people talked about in my Grade 12 English class.)

    And I’ve just talked with the vet, and Fergus is doing fine. More reports later.

  4. livingisdetail says:

    Poor Fergus and his mums. I hope he is back to feeling 100% very soon and you guys get some sleep. Why do these sweet pups have to sharpen their little teeth on everything?

  5. jamesviscosi says:

    Aww, poor Fergus. I had no idea a pine cone could do so much damage, but if we ever see any of our guys with one, you can rest assured it’ll get confiscated immediately.

  6. lavenderbay says:

    It’s starting to make sense to me, Goodbear, that the rise in veterinary knowledge coincides with the rise in neutered pets: how on earth did puppies survive to adulthood a hundred years ago? Oh, and, I suggested marrow bones as teething instruments… oops. The Hastings doctor figgers that’s how Fergus broke his baby canine. Sigh.

    It was actually Dr Jean, Shelley, the new kid, but he gave us 45 minutes of his time; I think he’ll do.

    I hope the thought of the one-a-m recycle tip raised a smile too, Eyegillian. I believe that nervous giggles in tough times are entirely appropriate.

    Thanks, Livingisdetail. I wonder whether zoologists have cracked the linguistic code yet for wolf mothers: which growl or howl means “Leave that pine cone alone!” “Put down that stick!” or “Don’t drink out of that puddle, raccoons have been there!”

    Yes, this might be a good incentive to find those lost Kongs, James! If you’re bored at work, maybe you could develop a logo for the SD PD: the Society of Dog-owning Prevention Damage. (Okay, that’s lame, but I like how it sounds like a Californian municipal police group. )

  7. Shelley says:

    Actually you may have given me new material for my “Keeping them Safe Article” 😦

    Even after breeding for nearly 20 years this is a new one on me. I’ve seen cotton rope toys (the 8′ string in Ruari’s intestine), the chew-hoof “Pylorus plug”, the Rollover Wrapper belly (Penny eating a football sized Rollover wrapper and all) but never a case of “Pine Cone Tummy”!

  8. lavenderbay says:

    That’s Fergus all over, Shelley, a real pioneer! Or is that “pine-near”?

  9. lavenderbay says:

    Excuse me — wrapper and all? Those things are tied off with bits of wire! (For non-Canadian readers, Rollovers are quantities of semi-soft dogfood that come squeezed into plastic wrapping, tied off and equipped with a loop of string for the store to hang them on the display hooks so they look like deli sausages. The Rollover company also makes soft treats and amazingly hard cookies; all products are irresistible to dogs — as Penny might tell you… )

  10. Poor Fergus. I hope he’s doing better by now. I hate it when pets get sick like that. If only they could talk to tell us exactly how they feel/where it hurts/IF it hurts, etc.

    Our 12 yr old cat was sick about a month ago, throwing up every time he ate. We took him to the vet — and paid a gazillion bucks for blood work, etc. – she ended up saying “he probably ate something he shouldn’t have.” Well DUH! For this diagnosis we paid what?! AND she kept referring to him as a ‘geriatric kitty’, which annoyed my hubby (probably because it made HIM feel old). Well, at least we found out from the blood lab that the geriatricat doesn’t have kidney disease, pancreatitis, diabetes, or liver disease. Still don’t know what the heck he did have (or ate) that made him up-chuck.

    All’s well that ends well, vet bills notwithstanding.

  11. lavenderbay says:

    I’m glad your cat’s feeling better now, Bobbie. I agree, it’s maddening to pay so much for misinformation or even no information. And I’m sorry about the geriatricat title. In the petstore, “senior” cat food usually starts at about 7 years, ’cause cats tend to be less active by then. But a well-cared-for cat can very often live to be 20 or even older. Next time you should take a tip from Jean Brodie and tell your vet that your cat is “in his prime”. 🙂

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