Poorly Pooch

Pet drama occurred on Friday after Rolls, our gorgeous Alsation/Retriever cross, started acting oddly on Wednesday evening.

We'd taken Rolls and our 2-year-old Jack Russell, Zeus, to the park on Wednesday afternoon.  Everything was fine.  No problems - apart from the usual of Zeus trying to attack every other dog within a 100 metre radius - so it was bizarre when Rolls did not appear his normal self on the evening.  He didn't eat his dinner - a big flashing red light, there!  We knew something was up - a bug!?

The 'rents did shifts all night and stayed downstairs with Rolls while he would go outside to just pace up and down the garden.  Unusual!  The following day, he still was not right.  The signs were getting more and more clear - Zeus didn't torment him once all day!  But it was the blood in his urine that was the ultimate decider that he needed to go to the vet's!  Cystitis?

I arrived home from work to be informed of Rolls's scheduled appointment for Friday morning - an operation!  His prostate had been diagnosed as irregular which was possibly hormonal..or other!?  He would have to be castrated if it was hormonal.  And while he was under the anaesthetic, the vet would scan him to see if there was something more sinister lurking in his poor furry body.

Needless to say, I was distraught!  I was fearing the worst - he is our baby!!  Most of Thursday eve and Friday morn was spent weeping.  Clock-watching at work was horrendous - I had visions of suffering a Marley & Me scenario and I wasn't prepared in the slightest.  It had all happened too quickly!  I hadn't said enough goodbyes to him.  I wanted to be holding his paw while he was being operated on.  And poor Poppa J would have had to make the decision to leave him in the land of nod if there was something very wrong with him.  Heartbreaking!

2pm came - I phoned Popsical to see what was going on.  Rolls had come round from the anaesthetic.  Hurrah!  However, the vet had said that he would discuss the results with him (Dad, not Rolls) at 4:20 when he could pick him up.  More clock-watching!  At 4:30pm, when I couldn't leave work for another 5 mins, I had a couple of missed calls from my bro!  My heart was racing - bad news???  BUT, a text message followed to say that the scan results had come back with the all clear.  Rolls had come back to fight another day!!  Zeus had his partner in crime back!  All was well in the world!  Well, almost...

At fourteen years old (well, ninety-eight in dog years), losing your 'knick-knacks' cannot be the most manly thing to happen to a male!  Poor Rolls, he'd already been offered an identity crisis in the week when Momma J washed his bed and the red ran into it from Zeus's bed, which was also being washed...it is now pink!

I would also like to add that Rolls took losing his 'bullers' (marbles reference) much better than Zeus did.  He was a right old drama queen!  He was shivering and wrapped up in a blanket - looking VERY sorry for himself!

Doggy Drama!!