It’s been an interesting week at Sunnybank.
-My daughter Lisa and her husband Peter visited, and settled their two caged budgies, BB and Blue, in the kitchen. They always enjoy gazing out at the garden from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Bryn, our five-month-old labradoodle puppy, is fascinated by avians, but they fly away... So today she touched her nose to one cage, and observed both birds up close and personal. They were oblivious, chirping morning songs and zipping from one perch to the other. Bryn followed every motion, mesmerized.
Later, Lisa took BB’s cage into the garden and removed its plastic bottom, exposing lush green lawn. The tiny yellow bird was intrigued, and soon hopped onto it to strut around, cheeping happily. She even nibbled a few fresh green blades.
Lisa was amply rewarded.
For the very first time, she was allowed to give BB a neck rub using her little finger. Lisa had tried for two years, but was always pecked for her trouble. Budgies just don’t care for hands and fingers on their feathers. Today, though, BB actually invited Lisa to touch her. Unprecedented! In fact, she turned her head just so, so Lisa could move her pinky completely around that thickly feathered, delicate neck. The birdie enjoyed it so much she purred! Lisa has rarely heard this sound- one of deep contentment.
Blue, the male, was offered the same experience, but he scrambled over to his security blanket- a little round mirror in his cage. Hiding behind it he felt safe. We understood. For the first critical six months of his life Blue had had food, water and warmth, but was otherwise ignored. His mirror image was his only companion. It’s been a challenge to win his trust, but they’ve made progress.
BB had never seen other birds either when Peter and Lisa adopted her, but her former owners had played with her affectionately. Confident BB has done much to reassure Blue, but still, he’s timid in novel situations.
***
Six days ago Bryn began to look nervously at her abdomen. She licked it often. Then she stopped eating. When she napped, her stomach growled and squeaked so loudly I couldn’t concentrate on my book. And whew! She passed gas!
Something was brewing…a bowel obstruction? I speculated that some puppy-gobbled widget was having trouble passing through eight feet of small bowel.
Time for the vet.
She asked lots of questions and examined Bryn. Her abdomen felt “a bit- squishy, more than is usual.” She wanted to x-ray it to hunt for foreign objects.
Oh, dear…. but, I didn’t dare wait.
As Bryn and I cooled our heels waiting for the machine to fire up, a large black spider popped out of the room’s heating vent and crawled across the clean, white tiled floor. Bryn bounced over, nudged it, and jumped back when it objected and tried to scurry away. Undaunted, she snapped the creature up, ate it and licked the floor. I groaned. Puppies devour anything!
An hour later the doctor and I examined the pictures. Bryn’s bowels harbored lots of large, round air pockets and a few air fluid levels, which can indicate partial or total obstruction. But no obviously alien thing jumped out at us. (The spider didn’t show up in there, either…)
“Well,” mused the doctor, “I’d like to keep Bryn here so we can do a barium study. By tonight the fluid will hopefully have traveled through her small intestine, with no impediment. She could go home around 10 p.m. if she poops –to prove she can- before she leaves.”
I left her in their care, and drove home worried, but glad I hadn’t waited to address what could be a serious situation.
At 9:45p.m. the call finally came. Bryn’s barium x-rays showed that the barium had made it almost all the way through, but Bryn was corked up a the end. She refused to give a stool specimen when the vet tech took her outside for a walk. Would I come, and walk her until it happened?
“I know exactly what to do,” I said confidently. “I’ll bring her home and take her to her favorite spot. If she does her business, I’ll ring you. If she doesn’t, I’ll bring her back. Will that work?”
It would, so I collected Bryn, who greeted me with delight. Once home, out we trotted. Almost immediately, she did her duty. It was easy to find and clean up, even in darkness, because the barium solution had coated it a ghostly white. I passed the good news along to the vet, gave her a prescription anti-nausea pill and tucked her into bed.
Hooray! No costly operation!
The next day she dined on bland, canned prescription dog food. Then, I offered her a small, twisty puppy chew stick from a package I’d opened two weeks ago. She’s enjoyed them, as she’s teething. Not this time. She took it, wagged her thanks,, went to her rug, dropped it, then stood there, looking at it intently. After a bit she walked away, leaving it untouched. I was floored! This rejection was unprecedented. (Okay, maybe she doesn’t eat everything.)
However, when I offered a little 2-inch bully stick, (dried beef tendon advocated by Cesar Millan, world-famous dog-whisperer and trainer) she accepted it eagerly and devoured it in a few hours. (They last a long time!)
Sighing, I tossed the twisted suspects into the trash.
(P.S. My know-it-all husband, who only has an M.D., thinks it’s likely that Bryn barfs because she’s too partial to park poop. I should buy a muzzle.
Huh. What does he know?---but hey, after that vet bill, maybe I’ll give it a try.)
-My daughter Lisa and her husband Peter visited, and settled their two caged budgies, BB and Blue, in the kitchen. They always enjoy gazing out at the garden from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Bryn, our five-month-old labradoodle puppy, is fascinated by avians, but they fly away... So today she touched her nose to one cage, and observed both birds up close and personal. They were oblivious, chirping morning songs and zipping from one perch to the other. Bryn followed every motion, mesmerized.
Later, Lisa took BB’s cage into the garden and removed its plastic bottom, exposing lush green lawn. The tiny yellow bird was intrigued, and soon hopped onto it to strut around, cheeping happily. She even nibbled a few fresh green blades.
Lisa was amply rewarded.
For the very first time, she was allowed to give BB a neck rub using her little finger. Lisa had tried for two years, but was always pecked for her trouble. Budgies just don’t care for hands and fingers on their feathers. Today, though, BB actually invited Lisa to touch her. Unprecedented! In fact, she turned her head just so, so Lisa could move her pinky completely around that thickly feathered, delicate neck. The birdie enjoyed it so much she purred! Lisa has rarely heard this sound- one of deep contentment.
Blue, the male, was offered the same experience, but he scrambled over to his security blanket- a little round mirror in his cage. Hiding behind it he felt safe. We understood. For the first critical six months of his life Blue had had food, water and warmth, but was otherwise ignored. His mirror image was his only companion. It’s been a challenge to win his trust, but they’ve made progress.
BB had never seen other birds either when Peter and Lisa adopted her, but her former owners had played with her affectionately. Confident BB has done much to reassure Blue, but still, he’s timid in novel situations.
***
Six days ago Bryn began to look nervously at her abdomen. She licked it often. Then she stopped eating. When she napped, her stomach growled and squeaked so loudly I couldn’t concentrate on my book. And whew! She passed gas!
Something was brewing…a bowel obstruction? I speculated that some puppy-gobbled widget was having trouble passing through eight feet of small bowel.
Time for the vet.
She asked lots of questions and examined Bryn. Her abdomen felt “a bit- squishy, more than is usual.” She wanted to x-ray it to hunt for foreign objects.
Oh, dear…. but, I didn’t dare wait.
As Bryn and I cooled our heels waiting for the machine to fire up, a large black spider popped out of the room’s heating vent and crawled across the clean, white tiled floor. Bryn bounced over, nudged it, and jumped back when it objected and tried to scurry away. Undaunted, she snapped the creature up, ate it and licked the floor. I groaned. Puppies devour anything!
An hour later the doctor and I examined the pictures. Bryn’s bowels harbored lots of large, round air pockets and a few air fluid levels, which can indicate partial or total obstruction. But no obviously alien thing jumped out at us. (The spider didn’t show up in there, either…)
“Well,” mused the doctor, “I’d like to keep Bryn here so we can do a barium study. By tonight the fluid will hopefully have traveled through her small intestine, with no impediment. She could go home around 10 p.m. if she poops –to prove she can- before she leaves.”
I left her in their care, and drove home worried, but glad I hadn’t waited to address what could be a serious situation.
At 9:45p.m. the call finally came. Bryn’s barium x-rays showed that the barium had made it almost all the way through, but Bryn was corked up a the end. She refused to give a stool specimen when the vet tech took her outside for a walk. Would I come, and walk her until it happened?
“I know exactly what to do,” I said confidently. “I’ll bring her home and take her to her favorite spot. If she does her business, I’ll ring you. If she doesn’t, I’ll bring her back. Will that work?”
It would, so I collected Bryn, who greeted me with delight. Once home, out we trotted. Almost immediately, she did her duty. It was easy to find and clean up, even in darkness, because the barium solution had coated it a ghostly white. I passed the good news along to the vet, gave her a prescription anti-nausea pill and tucked her into bed.
Hooray! No costly operation!
The next day she dined on bland, canned prescription dog food. Then, I offered her a small, twisty puppy chew stick from a package I’d opened two weeks ago. She’s enjoyed them, as she’s teething. Not this time. She took it, wagged her thanks,, went to her rug, dropped it, then stood there, looking at it intently. After a bit she walked away, leaving it untouched. I was floored! This rejection was unprecedented. (Okay, maybe she doesn’t eat everything.)
However, when I offered a little 2-inch bully stick, (dried beef tendon advocated by Cesar Millan, world-famous dog-whisperer and trainer) she accepted it eagerly and devoured it in a few hours. (They last a long time!)
Sighing, I tossed the twisted suspects into the trash.
(P.S. My know-it-all husband, who only has an M.D., thinks it’s likely that Bryn barfs because she’s too partial to park poop. I should buy a muzzle.
Huh. What does he know?---but hey, after that vet bill, maybe I’ll give it a try.)