Old Dog Vestibular Disease – it's a thing and who knew?

Smooch is going to be fine. 

Let us all remember that as I recap the last few days. 

Monday morning started out no differently than any other morning around here:
feed the dogs, do barn chores, walk the dogs, then work at my desk for a few hours
while the dogs nap. Everything was so normal and ordinary. Until it wasn't. 

Smooch woke up, then started wandering around the house as if she were looking for something.
Then she tipped over. She got up, took a few seemingly drunken steps, then she tipped over again.
Within 10 minutes, Smooch was crated and in the truck, and we were on our way to the vet.
 In my mind, she had suffered a stroke and I wouldn't be bringing her back home.

The vet examined Smooch, paying close attention to her eyes and her movements.
She seemed to know right away what was happening
and went on to explain "Old Dog Vestibular Syndrome."
Apparently it's common in senior dogs and is similar to a severe case of human vertigo.
Smooch would likely be fine in three to five days.
The vet sent us on our way with a prescription for meclazine, which humans take for motion sickness
and which Smooch would take to avoid nausea and loss of appetite.

 Here we are at the Walgreen's pharmacy drive-through, picking up Smooch's prescription.

Until she's recovered, Smooch is staying in Alex's crate, 

where she's safe from the slippery floor (and Alex).

The video below was taken mid-day Tuesday, by which time Smooch was doing much better.

You're probably going to think "This is better?!" 

It is – really! But it's also scary.

I steer clear of Google when it comes to all things medical – human or animal –

for fear of jumping to catastrophic conclusions. But Danni was kind enough

to find and share with me this excellent article on "Old Dog Vestibular Disease,"
which was just what I needed to step back from the ledge.

If you share your life with a dog, you might want to read it now 

so that you won't fear the worst unnecessarily if it happens to your canine companion.

Patient condition report

George's condition has been upgraded to stable and mischievous. He's moving almost normally, doesn't seem to be in much, if any, pain, and is trying to figure out how much stuff he can break and/or play with in the infirmary pen.

Lucy's condition remains guarded. I speak with the vet every day, and we continue to adjust her treatment plan. She is still very uncomfortable as the waiting game drags on. The vet suspects that there is an abcess caused by the dryland distemper bacteria buried high up in her flank area, which will eventually surface. I've asked him if there is anything more that could be done for her at the clinic. At this point, there is not, and he told me I'm doing more for her here than they could there since I can monitor and attend to her 24/7.

My condition is what it is. We'll get through this. It could be so much worse. I think about all the equine keepers in Texas. Somebody there was probably going through the same exact thing during the hurricane and flooding. And somebody in Florida or in proximity to one of the wildfires burning in the west is understandably freaking out right now because they've got a sick equine and their farm or ranch is in imminent danger. And surely there are DACA residents with sick equines thinking, "I've got enough to worry about damnit! Don't do this to me on top of everything else!"

So I'm doing my level best to keep things in perspective, stay calm, and not mix up George's meds with Lucy's. Thank you all for your support and friendship. It means everything to me.

The 7MSN I.C.U.

Lucy and Ethel take the herd to town

It's been a week since we took George, Alan and Lucy to town 

for their vet checkups.

I've finally recovered enough to share the story.

It was all good and everybody's healthy, save for me, 

who aged at least another five years from the stress.

Lucy, ever the perfect role model, went first

and had her teeth floated and ears checked for ticks...without sedation!

George went next, but his checkup was undocumented.

I think Ethel, the photographer, was still a little shook up laughing

from the part where the vet stuck a needle in George's vein

and he leaped into the air and spun around (George, not the vet),

knocking me flat on my ass.

 

Alan did not flinch for his shot of sedative and was most appreciative 

of the pharmaceutical assistance.

 Alan: I'm adorable even when I'm high.

 Nothing to see here. 

Moving on...

This is Alan having his ears checked for ticks. 

And the verdict is...

*** drumroll ***

No ticks! And the same was true for Lucy and George.

Upon our vet's recommendation two years ago,

everybody has gotten a weekly application of Frontline Flea and Tick Spray in their ears.

The stuff works.

 

Smooch achieves senior status

 Smooch had her annual physical last week,

 wherein the vet reminded me that Smooch is 10-1/2 years old.

 How did that happen?!

 So Smooch received her first "senior" wellness exam, wherein the vet

stretched and flexed and rotated Smooch's back legs and said, "what good hips you have."

Then she examined Smooch's teeth and said, "what interesting tartar you have."

Apparently, Smooch has very special tartar, not caused by food but by mineral deposits. 

We concluded my well water must be the culprit.

 Smooch has a bump on her side and another bump on her paw that we've been monitoring

for a few years. This time, the vet measured them and said she'd remove them if they 

got bigger by the time of Smooch's next visit which, because she's achieved senior status,

will now be at six-month intervals.

Smooch: Getting old sucks.

Me: I couldn't agree with you more.

Remembering Hank

I said goodbye to Hank on Friday. Yes, it was as heart-breaking as you're imagining. 

The quality of his life had gone downhill fast since mid-December. 

The snow and ice and mud took their toll on his fragile knee, 

and his bad days far outnumbered his good ones. 

I didn't think he'd make it through another storm.

I made the decision to let him go last weekend and scheduled the vet appointment for Friday, 

when I anticipated being able to get out with the horse trailer. 

That gave me a week to wrap my head and heart around the decision
and to spoil him with as much love – and as many treats – as he could handle. 

Early Friday morning, Lucy, George and Alan escorted us to the corral gate

and watched our every move as I loaded Hank in the trailer.

In their own way, I know they knew he wouldn't be coming back.

Our long-time vet performed the euthanasia, and it was painless and very peaceful for Hank.

I let him go knowing that he lived the last 10 years of his life
in the wide open spaces of the ranch, just being a horse.

Because they're worth it

I've had a lot of animals over the years, large and small, and my experience here in New Mexico 

is that the large animal vet bills (horses, donkeys, pigs) are always less than what I expect 

and the small animal vet bills (dogs and cats) are always more. Since most of you overestimated 

the amount of Hank's vet bill in last week's contest, I thought it might be interesting 

to look at a breakdown of the charges so we could all compare and commiserate. 

Also, the procedures appear more or less in the order they occurred, so if you ever

have a snakebit horse that presents with colic symptoms two days post-bite,

this might give you a general idea of what to expect.

Nothing on there seems exorbitant to me, especially when I consider the things

I wasn't charged for, like all the phone calls with the vet in the days between the snakebite

and Hank's hospitalization and the hours that the vets and techs spent at Hank's side,

willing him to eat and drink. Viewed in that light, I'd say I got a bargain.

I really don't understand veterinary economics, nor why small animal vets here
charge more than large animal vets. I don't think the small animal vets are charging too much; 

it's more like the large animal vets aren't charging enough.
Perhaps it comes down to what the market will bear.

In any case, if you're going to have animals, you're going to have vet bills,
but I think we'd all agree, they're worth it.

The Snakebite Report ~ Day 5

Whew. At 8:45 p.m. Tuesday night, Hank finally decided it was okay to drink water. 

Give us all a heart attack, why don't you?

The vet reports that his current behavior (eating fine, then not eating fine because the acid content 

in his stomach changes and he doesn't feel well for awhile, then eating fine again) 

helps confirm the diagnosis of ulcers, and I should expect that for awhile after he comes home,

which should be today as long as: 1) his protein levels are normal and 

2) it doesn't rain and I can get there to pick him up.

All the vets at the clinic agree that Hank is not comfortable in that environment

and shouldn't stay any longer than necessary. Sort of like me when I go to town.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the rest of the herd is anxiously awaiting Hank’s return. 

Lucy, George and Alan are leaderless and seem uncertain of what to do in his absence. 

I shot the following video yesterday, when: 1) they were late coming home in the morning,

2) Alan attempted to leave before I could put on his fly mask and grazing muzzle, 

3) they all stood at the gate wondering where Hank was, 

and 4) they spent much of the day napping.

You might notice a different look to this video. I broke my Flip video camera 

a few weeks ago and had to get a new one. That turned out to be a good thing because 

I’d been wanting a hands-free head-cam for awhile. We’ll be having all kinds of fun with it,

especially when I figure out how to put it on someone’s head other than my own.

p.s. I'll update the Twitter feed at the bottom of this page throughout the day as the situation warrants.

p.p.s. Have I told you lately how much your support and concern and comments 

have helped me get through this?

I don't know what comes after p.p.s. but I'll try to remember to wear the head-cam 

for the Hank/herd reunion. 

The Snakebite Report ~ Day 4

Every time the vet calls, I take copious notes, and here is what I wrote down yesterday:

1. The latest ultrasound showed that his misplaced intestine has dropped down into its rightful position. Can I have an amen?

2. The vets are operating on the theory that all the bute and banamine I had to give him to relieve his pain and swelling caused gastric ulcers. They believe this because he went from uninterested in food to ravenous once pumped full of milk of magnesia – ravenous to the point of eating the stall shavings, which had to be removed.

3. Hank convinced the staff that he is claustrophobic and demanded to be moved from an enclosed indoor stall with a great big fan to an outdoor pen, where he prefers to stand in the unsheltered portion, torrential rain or shine. I'm told the vet went out in a storm to move him under the shelter and he promptly went right back into the rain. That's my boy.

4. He makes everybody laugh.

5. He appears bright-eyed, comfortable and content. Were it not for his still-swollen muzzle and the fact that he's not drinking any water, the vet would allow him to come home.

I told the vet that Hank has been known to be a finicky water drinker; when I used to take him on weekend trips, I hauled water from home and he still wouldn't drink for the first 24-36 hours. So is he not drinking now because he can't or because he won't? Perhaps I need to take Fish to the clinic to poop in his water so that it tastes right.

Anyway, they'll continue to work on getting the swelling to go away, using low doses of dexamethasone instead of the stomach-irritating bute and banamine. And with any luck, he'll start drinking on his own. Because I live so far away, they don't want to release him until they're positive he's ready.

I'm breathing big sighs of relief, and I hope you are, too. Thank you all for your support and concern.
I'm confident Hank will be home soon in all his handsome glory.

The further adventures of Hank and the snakebite

Hank is not a happy camper. Though the swelling from the snakebite gradually decreased

as the weekend progressed, other symptoms began to appear Saturday night: 

he wasn't interested in his food, he wasn't drinking enough water, and he sure wasn't himself. 

Late Sunday afternoon, I told him if he wasn't significantly better by Monday morning, 

he would have to go to the vet. Then I looked at the weather forecast for Sunday night 

(70% chance of heavy rain) and said nevermind, we're going now while we still can.

His reaction to that news was not surprising.

Anyway, to the vet we went. The vet poked and prodded and ultrasounded and

tubed him. There might be an impaction further into his colon than the vet's arm can reach,

and there's some question about whether a section of intestine is misplaced. 

All of that is secondary to the snakebite, but undoubtedly a result thereof. 

So Hank is still at the clinic, being pumped full of fluids and stronger anti-inflammatories 

than I was able to give him here. I'm not extremely worried because I know he's getting 

the best possible care. On the other hand, I'm still worried because...because Hank.

The one where Hank gets bit by a snake

Spoiler alert: As I post this Friday evening at 5 p.m., Hank is doing well. 

Remember that as I tell the tale.

It was Thursday around 5 p.m. I walked out to the barn, only to find George chasing the chickens

in the front yard. WTF and how did he get in the front yard?  I tried to herd the chickens

out of harm's way and was having no luck, so I ran to the feed room to grab a halter and lead rope

for George. I passed Hank on my way and had another WTF moment. 

His muzzle was swollen up like a balloon. I knew in a heartbeat 

that he'd most likely been bitten by a snake.

I've probably read every article about snakebites and horses that's ever been written, 

recognizing that some day I would have to deal with one of these emergencies, 

but all that knowledge didn't matter one bit. When you are staring into your own horse's 

swollen snakebit face, you forget everything you've ever learned, and the first thing you do is panic.

The second thing you do is get your vet on the phone. Then the vet talks you back from the ledge

and comes up with a plan. In Hank's case, the plan was: ice if he would tolerate it, 

10ccs of banamine, 2 grams of bute, keep him calm and quiet, and above all, 

don't let his airways close up if the swelling gets worse. That would mean 

having to stick a long hunk of hose up Hank's nostril, and I truly doubted 

if I could do that safely by myself. 

Once I got all the anti-inflammatories in him, the all-night vigil began, watching and waiting, 

hoping and praying that I would not have to stick a hunk of hose up his nose. 

I've circled the area of the bite in the picture above - there are two tiny punctures. 

I have no idea what kind of snake bit him.

I contained Lucy, George and Alan in the corral so that Hank wouldn't panic in the absence of his herd.

Throughout the night, they never left his side. I was touched by their attentiveness

until I figured out what they really wanted was to slurp up the slobber and whatever else was

coming out of Hank's nose. That's Lucy standing behind Hank, licking slobber off the pipe.

Alan is waiting for the next batch to drip out his mouth. It was all very weird and disgusting,

but it gave me something to focus on besides Hank's swollen face.

I took pictures throughout the night to help me figure out if the swelling 

was getting worse or better. 

By daybreak, it was definitely worse but had moved toward his jawline; 

Hank's left nasal passage was still relatively normal. We both breathed a little better 

thinking the hunk of hose would not be needed. I checked in with the vet, who said

I could give him more pain meds and offer him breakfast. 

Eating was difficult but Hank being Hank found a way. I felt comfortable enough with his progress

to leave Lucy in charge while I drove to the vet clinic for antibiotics, which would ward off 

any infection from the bite. My new concern at this point was that Hank hadn't pooped 

since this all started 16 hours ago. Then again, he hadn't eaten, so I figured he would poop eventually.

It was a four-hour round trip to the clinic, and even though I knew Hank would be okay

in my absence, it was still a huge relief to find him bright-eyed and standing when I got home.

But he still hadn't pooped. Ugh. I would worry about that next. 

First I had to worry about injecting 30ccs of penicillin in his butt.

I give Hank injections all the time, but in his neck and 10ccs at the most.

This procedure was more involved because of the amount and the risks,

and because I could barely get my hand around the huge syringe.

But being the trouper he is, Hank stood like a statue while I bumbled around his behind

and we got 'r done. He'll get the penicillan shot two more times, 

plus he'll also be on oral antibiotics for a week.

So now it's almost 21 hours since he's pooped. He's been eating, albeit slowly,

and what goes in has to come out, and if you're a horse, that usually happens

a dozen times a day. I decided to take him for a short walk. We hadn't gone more than

ten steps into the corral and voila! Why didn't I think of that hours ago?

Apparently Hank's a neat freak and doesn't like to poop in his stall. 

He still surprises me after all these years.

It's now 24 hours since this adventure began. I think/hope the worst is behind us.

Snake bites are a fact of life for equines who are turned out on rangeland. 

Frankly I'm surprised it's taken 10 years for us to experience our first one.

Maybe those awful grazing muzzles I force the donkeys to wear have helped improve our odds.

Smooch's work-related stress disorder

Spoiler alert: I know some of you will worry as today's story unfolds, so I will tell you now that it ends well.

Our story begins the weekend before last. Smooch awoke in the middle of the night and barfed. No big deal. Dogs barf all the time. The next night, Smooch awoke twice in the pre-dawn hours and asked to go outside. Each time, she ate grass for a few minutes, then came back inside. No big deal. Dogs eat grass when their stomach is a little upset. The next night, same thing. Up twice, still eating grass.

She was otherwise being her normal active self, alerting me to the ever-present coyotes, digging holes, and playing with her toys, so I wasn't too concerned. I started adding some pumpkin purée to her meals, knowing it could help whatever digestive upset she was experiencing. We went on our daily two-mile walks and all was right with the world ... until this past Thursday.

Smooch and I left the house about noon. The snow was melting fast, but Smooch and I persevered down the muddy road and remained upright. As usual, Smooch stopped and sniffed every coyote and rabbit track we crossed, tugging me from one side of the road to the other. Think water skiing on mud. About a half mile from home, I felt all the energy fall out of Smooch's leash. She stopped and lay down in the mud. WTF? It was almost as if she were too weak to stand. After a minute or so, she got up, then we turned around and headed straight for home. I considered carrying her, but she seemed willing to walk on her own. A few minutes later, she pooped. It was not pretty. I will spare you the details. During the rest of the walk home, I formulated my plan for the afternoon: get home, call vet, drive to vet, hope the truck doesn't get stuck in the mud on the way out.

We made it home, with my concern elevating each time Smooch stopped to rest. The second we arrived on the back porch, Smooch did a downward-dog yoga pose, which she held for about a minute. What was that about?? When I tried to wipe off her muddy paws to come in the house, she cried out in pain. I let her in the house with muddy paws.

I called the vet, got an appointment for 2:15, and we left right away, stopping only to bag a fresh poop sample from the backyard. The usual 30-minute trek to the highway took 75 minutes because of the mud, but we didn't get stuck. I told Smooch that if she ever gets sick again, she has to promise to do so in better weather.

The vet tech examined Smooch first and I gave her all the details I've just shared with you. We reviewed her diet, her environment, and her daily routine. Then the vet came in and we reviewed all of the same stuff, while the tech went off to test the poop sample, which turned out to include all sorts of bad bacteria that wasn't supposed to be there.

Since Smooch's diet had not changed, nor had the stuff she has access to in her environment, the vet ruled out any sort of dietary indiscretion. Then she asked me, and I quote, "Has she been under any unusual stress lately? Have you been packing boxes? Have there been alot of coyotes around?" Alot? How about a pack of nine every day for a couple of weeks?

The vet told me that the stomach is the dog's stress organ - it's the first thing to react when a dog is under a lot of pressure. I had no idea. Since the timing of Smooch's stomach issues and the daily coyotes coincided, the vet is relatively certain that stress is at the root of the problem.

She gave Smooch a shot of cerenia to calm her stomach and sent us home with an 8-day supply of metronidazole (an antimicrobial antibiotic) and a couple of cans of Hill's w/d, which she described as "pumpkin on steroids." She said I could expect to see daily improvement in Smooch's health, which I have. Yippee, hallelujah, and amen.

Until the daily coyotes disappear, which I expect will happen once mating season concludes, Smooch shall be a full-time house dog, though what she probably needs is a vacation cruise someplace warm. Oh wait. Maybe that's me.

They done good

For two burros who don't get out much (as in never), George and Alan were on 

their best behavior yesterday for their bi-annual trip to the vet. They got their teeth floated, 

their ears de-ticked, and their boys parts cleaned. The trip was 100% uneventful, 

but that still doesn't mean I enjoyed it. I can't begin to explain the stress and anxiety I feel

hauling this precious cargo down the road from hell, then on to Albuquerque.

You'd have to see the size of the wine glass sitting next to me to believe me.

Maybe it was my whining, or my pleading, or my 15 years of being a loyal client who has 

helped put his children through college, but when I asked our vet for the umpteenth time today 

if he would come to us instead of me making the trek to Albuquerque for these annual physicals, 

he said, "I think we can make that work." It was like hearing angels singing. 

He has a big client in Belen now - a breeding farm - which he visits weekly during foaling season. 

He said he'd be willing to come visit us while he was in "the neighborhood." Oh Happy Day!

They didn't go quietly

I took Smooch and JohnnyCashCat to the vet on Friday for their annual exams and vaccinations. 

Smooch is cool with going to the vet. I lie and tell her we're going to Sonic for ice cream and she hops right in the truck.

I wasn't sure how Johnny would react, this being his first road trip since his arrival at the ranch a year ago.

 I doubted that he would go into his carrier willingly, so I let him in the house first thing in the morning

and closed him in the bathroom until it was time to go. He got to practice his yowling for a full hour.

Then I wrapped him in a towel, gently dropped him feet first into the upturned carrier, and presto!

He was in the carrier before he knew what happened, I didn't get scratched, and we were on our way.

Johnny: You tricked me.

The dog/cat vet is about a one-hour drive. Here is a short video that summarizes our trip.

We arrived at the clinic, exams were done, and shots were given. I have no pictures. My hands were full.

But Smooch and Johnny were both pronounced healthy and good to go for another year. 

Except they didn't go...they stayed while I went off to run errands.

I can't be sure what went down in my three-hour absence, but my guess is Smooch did not sleep a wink 

while confined in a crate at the clinic. 

She tried her best but could not stay awake on the way home...

...and she crashed once we got there.

Smooch: What? I'm awake. I didn't miss a thing. 

Smooch: Was that a nightmare or I did I just spend the day at the vet with that darned cat?

A royal hangover

The porcine princess went to the vet on Friday to have her teeth cleaned and hooves trimmed. 

This year's visit went much the same as last year's, which is to say uneventful but exhausting. 

For reasons known only to Wynonna, she fought the anesthesia mightily, and the vet had to give her
more than the usual dose to knock her out. Hence, she was still passed out when we arrived home.

Pushing 165 pounds of sleeping pig down the ramp is easier than 

pushing 165 pounds of awake pig up the ramp, and one has to be grateful for small mercies.

Me: Wynonna, this would not be a good time to wake up.

I needn't have worried – she was still out cold.

I arranged her in a safe place in her pen and kept vigil until she came to.

Me: It was for your own good, but you're gonna hate me in the morning.

Me: Anybody in there? Apparently not.

When she began to twitch her legs a bit, I decided to roll her out of the crate as gently as I could.

I hope she doesn't remember what ended up being an unceremonious dump.

George: Tsk...tsk...she's an embarrassment to the crown.

Within the hour, she tried to stand but couldn't get her back legs under her.

Wynonna: Somebody call me a cab.

She eventually made her way into the royal chambers and was served dinner in bed.