I'm NOT getting a dog

*sheesh*

Around 12:30 last night we got a call from "a neighbour" that Nicky was barking.

I go over to check on him, and he seems to be in a lot of pain, and doesn't appear to have gone in his heated kennel at all. Damn.

I come back and ask mom and B if I can put him in the basement bathroom for the night. They don't want him there, but can't come up with anything better and so relent. I take *everything* out of the bathroom that isn't in a drawer or cupboard (and pray that he doesn't know how to get into those), grab an old towel and a leash, and go to fetch Nicky. At my dad's I look through the garage and shed and find my old sled.

Nicky does *not* want to ride a moving sled.

Okay, dog, then you're going to have to walk.

Nicky seemed almost like his old self (except no pulling) as I walked him back to mom and B's and led him down the stairs. I give him the first towel and a second to lie on and stay warm. I put some water in a dish, which he promptly emptied. I refill the dish, and this time he leaves half of the water. I pet him until he's nearly asleep, then go to get some sleep myself.

The rest of this sleep-deprived night gets a little blurry. Nicky whined a lot. At least three times I took my thermarest, a blanket and a small pillow in to lie with him.

...dog calling, back later. :(

Update 1

Back from vet... having shower now.

Update 2

I've had my shower, brushed my teeth, cleaned and put everything back in the bathroom, and started my laundry. Back to the story.

Well, the first time I went in to lie with him he didn't settle down at all. He decided he wanted to rip the towels to shreds and eat them, and growled at me when I tried to stop him. I went back to bed. The second time he seemed to like having me there, but kept putting his feet in my face. Eventually I gave up and went back to bed. I think it was between the second and third times that he peed on the floor... luckily the towel shreds soaked up most of it. (He had been scratching on the door just before he peed, but he wouldn't have been able to make it up the stairs anyway... so it's better that he went there than in the hallway which is carpeted.) I threw out the shreds, mopped up the rest, then gave him a fresh ratty towel. The third time I lay down with him we both managed to get some rest.

Nicky was still in a lot of pain this morning, so I called the vet and they said to bring him in. I asked if they had any advice on how to get him up the stairs. They suggested using a blanket as a stretcher, held between two people. Nicky did NOT like that. I managed to coax him up the stairs and over to the car, and he came despite yelping in pain.

At the vet's, I backed the car right up to the door. One of the assistants came out to help me, and we used a towel as a sling to hold up his rear while he walked with his front. He didn't like that either! Basically the vet held up his back end, Nicky had his front feet braced out forward and snapped at the towel, and I dragged him with the leash. Not a pleasant experience for anyone! (And another towel bites the dust.)

I got to put a muzzle on Nicky again. (He is *not* going to be fond of me after this.) The vet sedated him with a shot, and I got to sit around while the shot took effect. The shot happened to also contain a big painkiller, so I got to coax him into the back room where they do the full-knock-out and exam. (He would come for me, not the doctor.)

So... now he's there being examined, I finally got ahold of the kennel, and they'll be picking him up this afternoon after he wakes up. Dad will be back in less than a week now.

I felt sorry for the poor smelly dog who couldn't tell me what was wrong. However, I've decided that I'm *not* a dog owner. Dogs may provide companionship, but boyfriends are *way* better than dogs. I don't think even my worst boyfriend was this much trouble. (And when he was in pain, he could at least tell me what was wrong.) My latest boyfriend was great. I miss him. :(