Home again

Spackle is home again from the emergency care vet (ACCES in Lake City). The good news is that they were able to get the swelling around the eyes back down and he's doesn't seem to be in pain any more. Here he is, eagerly awaiting a handout of his share of Calin's and my roasted chicken lunch.

The hard part is that the method they used to reduce the swelling was a sort of last resort. The steroid prednisone reduced the inflammation by suppressing his immune response. This means that it's unlikely that he'll be able to fight whatever is ailing him on his own and it's unlikely that any further diagnoses are possible.

It's not at all clear how long he'll continue to feel as good as he does now. He just enjoyed an 8-block stroll with Calin to revisit the neighborhood smells and is now sleeping peacefully. When he no longer feels well, there's nothing else to do for him, except help him peacefully pass on to the true Doggie Heaven. That is, not his grandparents' place in Maple Valley which we refer to by the same name. Well, actually, he'll still go to Maple Valley, but it would be in a doggie body bag.

This may not have been directly related to Spackle's illness, but the sunset last night was truly something to behold. If Calin and I needed any further proof that the ways of nature are mysterious and multi-splendored, I think we got it.

Playing His Cards Close to His Chest

So . . . we found out yesterday that Spackle does not have Leptospirosis, which is good news for me and my upcoming surgery--since there's really no chance I was out eating wild animal scat on my own, and now there's no chance I picked up the bacteria from Spackle.

Unfortunately, that diagnosis only slightly narrows the gap of what could, possibly, be wrong with our dog, and also unfortunately, something still really is.

Yesterday afternoon his eyes went all buggy and painful again, even with the increased frequency of both steroidal and non-steroidal anti-inflamatory eyedrops, which meant that by midnight he was panting with distress and I poked Ian awake and we rushed Spackle off to yet another vet, in yet another emergency room.

This new clinic has a dog internist instead of just the general practitioners we have been seeing in Seattle, which should help us figure out what is going on. Everyone who looks at Spackle's tests and bloodwork and whatnot says "Wow--this is crazy stuff! I have no idea what this means!", which is not unlike everyone looking at my tests last year and wondering why I was still alive, let alone functional.

Current possibilities for what's really wrong include: reaction to Atropine, an eye ointment that causes dilation and reduces the pain of uveitis; lymphoma or some other cancerous condition; a fungal infection; or some type of autoimmune disorder--or any previously unknown combination of the above.

Exhausted and hungry from the roller-coaster of care, we stopped at Dick's at 1:45am, on our way home, for much-appreciated burgers and fries. While we were waiting for new fries to be fried, we watched some guy in a little white coupe try to start his car. The engine turned over and over and over, without catching, and the guy stopped trying for a bit. As we drove away, we saw him start his engine successfully and drive away, too.

"He just needed to eat more Dick's," said Ian reflectively.

Hoockle? Not so fast . . .

My brother Deane failed in his attempt to post a comment on our dog blog, but essentially he wanted to root for Spackle's return to health and his top dog status, although Hoover would probably think Deane's suggestion for a new blog name appropriate. In fact, if Hoover were to line us all up in one name, he would probably come up with something like "Hoockalian" (no offense, Ian--I'm just supposing).

But, Spackle seems to have turned a corner today, and so Spoover they remain. His white count (blood tests, with which those readers of another of my blogs will be familiar) is still very high, indicating that he's still attacking a massive infection, but he's piddling and eating and drinking and he had a MASSIVE poop on our walk just now. He ran into the exam room when we picked him up, and leapt out of the car at home. Dr. Mortimer says he's not out of the woods completely yet, but he is doing very well.

Healthier dog

Maybe the antibiotics are doing their work because Spackle was doing much better this morning than yesterday. He's still got elephant-man-swelling around his eyes, but the appetite is back and he's got more spring in his step.

Sick dog

Mr. Spackle (pictured above using his chocolate lab camouflage to blend into a couch)  is fighting some kind of major infection that has him feeling rotten. Instead of the expected fun roaming the hills of Jerome Creek, Idaho, he spent the past weekend at the College of Veterinary Medicine at Washington State University, where he was treated very kindly. The leading theory for the cause of his woes is leptospirosis, a bad bacteria, but definitive diagnosis may not be available for a week for bloodwork to be completed. If he can tolerate severe swelling around the eyes and nausiating antibiotics on top of the pain of the illness, he'll hopefully pull through. But he could certainly use the help of happy Spackle-healing messages sent through the ether.