A post should appear every Sunday

Sunday May 12th 2024

Isis has always had fragrant breath. More accurately, her breath is always completely odourless unless, of course, she has just consumed a sardine.

But lately, there’s an unmistakeable whiff of bad teeth.

The vet confirms that teeth need extracting, and an appointment is arranged for Friday May 3rd.

Oh dear. Today’s THE day.

Poor Isis. With no warning, and no breakfast, she is woken at the ridiculous hour of 7.30. As always, the poor, innocent creature jumps eagerly into the car, which makes Human feel even worse to be delivering her into the jaws (as it were) of dental surgery.

Canine and feline dental patients have to wait to have their surgery until the day’s other surgical procedures have been done, and poor Isis will be sitting in a strange environment, waiting for hours. I ask whether it is possible for me to take her in later than 8.30, but no, rules are rules. I voice my concerns, and they kindly agree to place her in an isolation kennel so that she’ll not be frightened by other dogs.

She stands beside me in the waiting room visibly trembling. Before she is given anaesthetic, she will have blood tests and a heart check to make sure that the risk inherent  in any anaesthetic procedure is reduced as far as possible. They will let me know how she is when she comes out of surgery, and later, when I can take her home.

The vet lets me know that everything has gone well, then a nurse phones earlier than I expect, to suggest that I come and collect Isis as she is very stressed. They want her to eat soft food before discharging her but she refuses to eat.

When she is brought to the door of the waiting room she looks truly pathetic. My heart sinks. She’s bedraggled, miserable and frightened.

I put my hand close to her nose, and she does wag her tail very, very faintly.

I drive her home, and, suageing into good nurse mode, place her gently on the day bed before going off to put some of the vet’s food into her bowl.

But “CLUMPF!” She appears in the kitchen doorway looking hopeful. I give her the special food which she refused to eat at the vet’s a short time before, and she demolishes it immediately.

From then on, she is back to her usual self except that the Metacam is making her sleepy. I read over the post-op. instructions from the vet. I’m warned not to worry about her vomiting as this is quite normal after anaesthetic, and not to be concerned if she doesn’t want to eat on her first day home.

But she doesn’t vomit, and she eats like a horse, clearly believing that having missed a meal yesterday, she should have double helpings today. I have bought her some Caesar tubs of poultry and ‘country vegetables’. Every meal vanishes seconds after it’s served. I begin to alternate the Caesar with her usual kibbles, soaked overnight so that they’re soft.

As requested, we report back to the vet the following Monday. Poor Isis stands in the waiting room trembling like a cornfield in a gale force wind. No amount of stroking makes an iota of difference. She is certain that she is to be abandoned again, taken away, off down the corridor and locked up.

The poor little creature continues to tremble as we walk with the kind and sympathetic nurse into a consulting room, and while the nurse examines her teeth. She is, as usual, very co-operative and doesn’t flinch when her mouth is held open and her teeth checked.

All is well: there is no infection, and only the amount of swelling which is to be expected at this stage. We are asked to return on Monday May 20th (tomorrow) for her final check.

I had asked when Isis could stop taking the Metacam, as I believe that the medication, although very good for controlling pain, can compromise liver function. I was told that it could be stopped when I thought that she was no longer in pain.

She shows no sign of being in pain, so two days ago, on Friday, I discontinue the Metacom. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say, so I also discard the kibble soaking, and give her the kibbles dry. She appears to think before she chews, but only for a couple of seconds, then she crunches her way merrily through her supper.

After this, for the first time since her operation, she repairs to her dog bed and lies there mouthing her cow.

She’s such a stoical little dog.

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.