A post should appear every Sunday

Sunday October 29th 2023

Why is it, I ponder, that we animal people become so much more worried about our pets’ ailments than our own?

I’ve been very lucky with Isis so far. Apart from her anal glands requiring attention every seven or eight weeks, one fractured nail bed, and two outbreaks of dermatitis caused by contact with some unknown plant in Highbury Park, she’s been a very healthy dog.

I remember her being sick only twice in nine years, and both up-chucks are the result of her gobbling her food too quickly. I can recall just one occasion on which she had diarrhoea, and that is the first time I take her to visit my friend in Wales: the hairy miscreant finds and devours two large sweet potatoes, despite their both being encased in dried mud.

The large slice of fruit packed Christmas cake, which she snatches from the table and consumes during the same visit, appears to have no effect on her digestive system at all, nor does the condom she comes across in a car park and swallows, a few weeks after she arrives in Birmingham!

For days Human, of course, fantasises about the dire consequences of each unauthorised snack.

Although before Isis arrives, I clear the garden of everything potentially dangerous to a young deaf and blind dog, and the garden is as passed as safe by a Dog Watch U.K. volunteer, the fluffy menace manages to sniff out danger. She dismantles a carefully stacked pile of three by six feet corrugated aluminium panels, and charges round the garden with them in her mouth; additionally, every time she is taken to the park, she plays  tug-of-war with ten foot long brambles.

Despite her recklessness, she rarely ends up with even a scratch.

When she runs off the end of a wall and falls six or seven feet to the ground, she merely picks herself up, shakes herself, and carries on exploring.

Nevertheless, if Isis has so much as a brief riffle through her fur, I pounce on her and search through her coat, in case she is suffering from a flea invasion – even though she is treated regularly with anti-parasitics, and, to date, has never hosted a single flea.

Earlier this year, I find a discarded nail sheath on the kitchen floor. Oh dear! Is this supposed to happen? I examine it carefully for any sign of blood or torn tissue, but find nothing untoward, then I check her nails to make sure they are all intact.

They are.

Eventually, it occurs to me that since she doesn’t have weekly nail bar sessions, it’s probably quite normal for her to shed a nail sheath now and again.

Over the last few months though, the shedding becomes more frequent. Soon there’s a small pyramid of cast-offs decorating the windowsill.

Oh my Dog, what horrible disease has she contracted?

On Friday Isis and I call into Dogma for her dry food. I mention the nail ‘problem’ to Lee, the knowledgeable proprietor, who tells me that his twelve year old dog sheds nail sheaths quite frequently. Some dogs do as they grow older, apparently.

Phew!

Then there’s the grass eating. Previously, every so often, she might nibble a selected blade or two, but now she’s grazing like a ravenous ruminant. Lee reminds me that this is only self medication. She probably feels her gut isn’t quite right.

Hmmmm. That’s reassuring.

Not for long though.

On Friday we walk with Bev and Nancy in Highbury. Isis takes up the usual preparatory position, and I approach discretely with a dog bag.

Oh. There’s nothing to pick up.

That’s odd.

Several times more she takes up the poop stance. Bev observes that poor Isis is straining, but with no result.

Oh dear, what can be the matter with her?

Late that night I follow Hairy One into the garden – I always do as she doesn’t like going out unaccompanied in the dark – but still there are none of the hoped for outcomes.

By now I am convinced that there is definitely something wrong with her. It’s Saturday, and her vet has a morning surgery.

I’d rather stay in bed.

But what if she’s seriously ill?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I tell myself.

“Ah, but the vet’s not open until Monday.”

By the time we get to Holders Lane, I’ve convinced myself that Isis has an obstruction. Intestinal obstructions can be lethal. By the end of today, during the night, or at the latest tomorrow, she’ll be vomiting. She’ll be dangerously ill. I should have taken her to the vet this morning.

Isis seems quite pleased to be in Holders Woods again. We’ve only walked a short way from the car when she calmly arranges her limbs into poop readiness, and everything proceeds as normal. During the walk, the requisite number of canine duties are done.

I heave a sigh of relief, and the background cloud of anxiety floats away.

We haven’t been here since July, and there are numerous interesting scents to occupy her nose.

All is well.

What a relief.

On the way home, it occurs to me that Isis was constipated for ONE day, not three weeks.

For goodness sake Human, get a grip.

Isis came from Aeza cat and dog rescue in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@azea.org or go to http://www.dogwatch.co.uk.