This is one of the three little guys that came in today, dehydrated, super hungry, very small, five weeks old, if that. This one had a huge swelling down one side of his face that I couldnt find the cause of, and I was worried because he was in a lot of pain. Once I had the other two settled in and fed, I took out this little guy to have a closer look. I tried to gently move my fingers over his face to see if I could find any damage, but he whined at the merest touch, flinching and trying to move away from me. Following the advice of a friend, I held a warm wet cloth against his face until his hair was soaked and his skin soft. Lo and behold, 5 bite marks appeared in a perfect crescent from above his eye, down his cheek, to the last one under his jaw. I wrapped him up tightly to keep him from moving too much so that I could examine and treat him, and as you can imagine, he was NOT happy about that, squirming frantically and doing his best to break free. With a flashlight stuck in my mouth and a magnifying glass in one hand, I checked out his mouth and teeth to make sure there was nothing broken or torn inside. When that proved clear, I moved to the outside of his face and leaned in to have a closer look. When my face was barely an inch or two from his and I was trying to poke as gently as I could to separate the hair and determine if the bite was infected, he turned his mouth to my ear. Thinking I was about to get a grateful tongue lick from the little guy, I started to smile, but my smile froze and then disappeared as he began to howl. Oh, the humanity! Such a grand noise from such little lungs! The other dogs in the yard suddenly gathered at my screen door, peeking in to see what was happening, shifting over and under each other continually and arguing over who would get the best spot to see what torture mom was inflicting on their newest friend. The house dogs disappeared into their beds or behind the chair, whichever was closest. My husband, who had just come home from the field and had no idea I had new puppies in, paused at the bottom of the stairs and then turned and went back out to the shop, probably thinking that if that noise was coming from me, I was obviously in desperate need of some alone time and he was more than willing to give it to me! I cooed, I clucked, I talked, I even sang and rocked the little guy like a baby, all to no avail. The howls continued, unabated, at about the level of your average chain saw. His head tossed back, neck rigid, his lips curled into a perfect circle, he railed at the heavens above with his eyes closed, howling his displeasure so everyone could hear! From haunting and mournful to angry and challenging to almost operatic, the howls grew in intensity and then eased off to only rise back again to triple digit decibels. I realized that he was not going to be co-operative and it would be in my best interests to get this over with as quickly as I could, so I wrapped him up again, tighter than before, thinking that if he would just stay still, this could be quick. As you can tell by his picture, if looks could kill, I would be dancing on flames for the rest of my days. Taking a breath, I moved in and started trying to disinfect the bites. I touched, he howled. I touched gently, he howled. I pretended to touch, he howled. I waved my finger back and forth, he sealed his lips and tried to ignore me, glaring at me out of the corner of his eye. I touched with a touch as light as a feather, barely moving the air above his face, fractions of millimeters away from his fur. He howled! I offered him a treat to appease him, he ate it, and then howled! It took a while, I admit I had to stop every now and again to do a few breathing techniques I had last used in the labour room while giving birth, but finally, it was over. He was washed, his wounds were clean and disinfected, he should be grateful! I was exhausted, profusely sweating, and my ears were still ringing! I unwrapped him, gave him a treat, and gently placed him on the floor. With an air of injured dignity and a backwards glance at me that was strangely a bit malicious, he walked over to the edge of my carpet, squatted, and deposited a moist brown pile of revenge on my freshly washed floor. I sighed. I think I shall name him…yup, you guessed it….Bob!
Posted on: Sat, 11 Oct 2014 05:37:44 +0000