Difference between revisions of "Diva"

Latest revision as of 17:38, 13 April 2009

Diva is the wonderful, beautiful, revoltingly adorable pug puppy that permits Caryatid to adore her all day, every day. She was bred and raised and trained by Caryatid's mother (whose neat-o dog-themed cyber-zine can be viewed here: Barkbytes).

Observe here that she is truly Most Cute (TM):

Getting the Go

To obtain landlordy permissions (PERMISSION GRANTED!!!), a beautiful pet resume was sent: yanked for security reasons

Mantra

Keeping your fingers, toes, unmentionables crossed, won puppy permissions and introductions to the single-most endearing creature ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH.

More Pictures!!!

Heartwalk

9/16/2006: Diva walked with my team at the AHA Heartwalk -- all three miles on her little puggy legs! She was adorably spent afterwards.

UPDATE: Diva and her mommy are participating in the Boston Heart Walk for the second time, on Saturday, September 15, 2007, so if you want to walk with us or donate, email Caryatid or visit the Cat & Diva donation page.

Christmas 2006

Puppy Prezzies

Graduate Degrees in Awesome

Clad in Cuteness

Salty Sea-Dog Adventures, and Friends

Diagnosis: Diva

((Back-story to follow in time....))

Footnote: Macabre as it may sound, I honestly find it fascinating to see her perfect, tiny vertebrae and ribs and such all in a row and in their place. Like, how amazing is she, with all those little bones helping her do the drag-racer-pug-rabbit-run and her organs just churning away to make all that adorable flatulence? Hey, look! A kneecap! Without all that stuff there, her charming head tilts wouldn’t work so well either....

Anyway, the Stone is the more opaque white ovoid in the belly, near the mid-point of her thigh bone. Using the vertebrae for scale, the stone is about an inch across, which the vet says is not abnormally large, however much it seems so to us. But it is too large to pass, so it's special prescription food for her, for at least the next month or two, possibly for life. That's a $60/month habit she did not need, but it's better than the $1200 surgery (which we're hoping she won't need if the food does its work and dissolves the stone). If the food does work, the next concern (aside from monthly x-rays ($125 ea.) and urine cultures and antibiotics) is praying once the stone is smaller, but not yet quite small enough, that Diva doesn't try and fail to pass it. If she gets corked, it's puppy-ER for her, where we can only hope she meets a nice George Clooney Canine DVM.

Questions remaining on the table are:

1. Did the infection originally cause the stone or vice versa? (Order of likelihood of cause, from most to least likely, is: Infection, Diet, Genetics.)

1. This indicates whether it's genetic (thus a lifetime diet is in order to treat this chronic issue), or acute and once we've kicked it, it's kicked. (It's hard to tell after the fact--because stones lead to infections, which cause crystals, which can become stones--but they have Ways.)
2. Other possible cause (dietary) would mean a diet change, either to permanently prescription food, or just a different brand than previous. City water is ruled out as a likely cause.

2. What is the particular bacterial strain of her infection, and since it seems to be antibiotic resistant, what specific treatment will work? (These answers currently brewing in a petri dish.)

3. Is the food dissolving the stone, or does she need the surgery? (Another x-ray and urine-culture in one month, and monthly after that for 3-4 months.) Which anesthesia killed her mother, Cher, and which different anesthesia are we going to use, if/when surgery is needed?

Questions no longer on the table:

1. Why is my dog bleeding from the cootch?

Answer: She misunderstood my command for her to start earning her bread and board, and decided to grow Mummy a pearl. It's not her fault I didn't give her that biology book she wanted for Christmas.

UPDATE:

4/10/09: The vet, charming Sir Parker, brought up first the original scan on the screen, for reference. Then he flipped to the new scan. I declared, "Oh no, she's full of poop! I can't see the stone!" (Dismay borne of the now likely need that she would be admitted for a few hours, de-pooed, then rescanned, all the while I sit on a bench in Davis praying they only charge me once for the x-ray.) The vet laughed, "Well, yes, there is some stool, but there's a different reason you can't see the stone: it's gone." I blinked, and delivered a head tilt Diva would be proud of, if she wasn't busy going to town on the vet's stale but acceptable cookies. He grinned; "The stone is no more. It has ceased to be." (Heart the vet.)

That's right, Diva is an oyster no longer. She is without pearl.

So, she is now downgraded to the maintenance prescription food (c/d rather than s/d), which I'm glad has both kibble and canned varieties, save that it means I'm still carrying the heavy crap from Davis, and it costs a delightful $10 less than the s/d (whereas her old food cost pennies per day, *growl*). But there should be no more series of scans and tests, save to periodically make sure all is well.

(We stopped at the doggie park on the way home, went off leash even, and met a black lab with a tennis shoe in its mouth 'til he smeared it on me and stole Diva's muddy cookie, and a Scottie that was in amor with Diva and had carnal intentions, and a puggle that wanted nothing more than to permanently fuse his nose to Diva's. Diva had a brief panic attack when she realized, child-at-the-mall style, that the legs she'd been trotting beside were not mine, but were rather a stranger's. So the owner of the Frenchie bent down to pet Diva, Diva jumped back with horror all over her puggy face, then started running around frantic to find me. I chased along behind saying, "Diva, I'm right here," and she glanced back, said very clearly with her eyes, "Not NOW, I'm looking for my MOMMY," then did a double-take and ran to me. In spite of the horror of the Incident, I think she MIGHT'VE even enjoyed herself.)

UPDATE 2: The food gives her the most heinous diarrhea, and foul-rank-acid farts that make you pass out and fall down on the floor. Smell rating: 25 Hobo