9.00 am Tuesday: Brandon announces that it is Harriet's birthday and he wants to sing happy birthday to her.
8.30 pm Chocolate cake bought, candles lit, lights dimmed ... birthday procession under way.
8.35: Candles blown out. Cake sliced. Silence.
8.45: Coffee and tea drunk. Brandon heading off to bed.
9.30: Bala drops a yellow birthday candle in my lap. 'Stop eating everything ..' comment made.
9.45: David remarks that her mouth isn't closed as it normally is.
9.46: Search for other six large birthday candles. None found.
9.47: Karen has hand in dog's mouth.
9.47: Dog tries to swallow Karen's hand.
9.48: Karen finds new words to stop dog from munching on hand.
9.49: Nothing found in mouth.
9.50: Family stands staring at dog.
9.52: Family begins offering suggestions to only member of tribe willing to pry open jaws and put hand in dog's mouth.
9.55: Karen suggests that the suggestions cease!
9.56: Remarks flow that indicate that other family members feel her words are unwelcome.
9.58: Bala confused, jaw hanging open, drooling, unable to lap water or swallow properly.
9.59: Family stare at dog.
9.59.17: Dog stares back.
10:00 Kirsty calls friend with canine vet knowledge for suggestions.
10.03: Suggestion :TAKE DOG TO VET NOW!
10.03.23: Is that really necessary? Emergency vets take at the very least the eldest born or a second mortgage (Which ever one you are willing to hand over!) Discussions take a turn for the worse.
10.04: Bala slinks off clearly unwilling to have her mouth examined one more time ... missing candles are clearly cause of this emergency and a few family members make uncalled for remarks about Bala and her life history ...
10.05: Vet called.
10.05.32: Another vet called.
10.05.46: Another vet called with an offer for any willing family member to be held for ransom should funds not be available.
10.05.56: Discover that only family member willing to offer themselves is ... me.
10.06.04: Not knowing my family, or me, the vet accepts offer.
10.07: David finds new curse words to describe cost of keeping a pet ... or anything other than a goldfish!
10.09: Bala is excited at idea of a car ride. Kirsty offers to accompany mother. Men disperse and are clearly considering their beauty sleep.
10.40: Arrive at vet. Bala registered. We sit.
10.50: We sit.
11.10: We sit and in desperation begin to talk to other people in waiting room. Their dachshund had an allergic reaction to vaccinations and face so swollen eyes closed. Bala listens in awe.
11.20: Sighting of a vet tech. Palpable excitement in waiting room.
11.20.01: Excitement fades as tech disappears.
11.33: Conversation runs dry. Kirsty begins to wonder where coffee can be found.
11.35: Kirsty claims that she is setting out to seek coffee.
12.02: Vet tech sees Bala in waiting room. Informs me that it will be a half hour before the vet is available. Bala raises her eyes at me. I sigh. Bala lies down: mouth closed!
12.04: Coffee arrives.
12.06: New conversation with cat owner. Lady is clearly a cat enthusiast. I spend some moments wondering exactly how many cats she has - and dogs. Notice her mannerisms might be mistaken for a cat. Watch closely to see if she begins to wipe her face with her paws ... I mean hands.
12.16: Conversation dries up.
12.50: Kirsty lies on bench muttering about time, work, exhaustion, chaos and the eating habits of a certain dog who is sound asleep.
1:10: Dog sleeps on. Kirsty mumbles fresh string of words about work, children, exhaustion while I try to read a magazine about cute, furry, cuddly dogs who never eat anything larger than a fly.
1.20: Try lying down.
1.20.17: Realise that even with my padding the bench is uncomfortable.
1.25: Cat woman strikes up new conversation.
1.40: Family with desperately ill dog are called into locked area (where there is a bathroom that I now realise I need).
1.56: Start leaning over counter calling "Hello" in very polite voice.
1.59: Voice tone changes and "Hello" becomes a little strident.
2.02: Voice raised a few decibels.
2.05: Considering climbing over counter and through hatch to get to bathroom. Return to bench after mental picture of my rear end clambering over a desk as someone walks into the room. Return to wood hard bench. Lie down. Pull coat over eyes.
2.08: Vet tech opens door to allow family to exit. Great excitement among the humans who all rush to the door claiming bathroom priority.
2.15: Peace returns to waiting room.
2.30: All pretense of sleeping is over. I sit up and glower at dog who snores on. Slowly remember placing 'missing' candles in a draw to use with Brandon in a craft activity. Wonder if now is a good time to tell Kirsty. Decide against it as she moans and turns onto her side. Consider going home just as dog lifts head and jaw drops open. Bala looks at me as if I am to blame for her condition. Guilt courses through my veins. Head lowered she snugs against my foot and goes to sleep. Kirsty mutters words that sound vaguely like stupid, damn, bloody, hell, crazy, hound ...
2.55: Family of dog summoned.
3.40: Family depart without dog who has sadly passed away.
3.59: Cat lady told cat almost ready to be released. Bala called to see vet.
4.00: Kirsty and I are so excited we rush past vet tech and push passed each other to get Bala into the assigned room.
4.10: Vet informs us that they need to give anethestic and take x-rays etc. Will call when they have results.
4.15: We sit in car staring at each other. Dawn's early light glows on the horizon.
4.25: Dunkin' D's worker informs us in harsh words that the coffee is not ready and we will have to wait 5 minutes.
4.26: Cashier recognises Kirsty from 11.45 visit and tries to start conversation about pets, vets and late nights. We grunt. He continues. We try blinking but discover our eyes are covered by sandpaper. Smell of coffee swamps us. Olympic sprint to Dunkin' D's where sullen woman serves us what tastes like nectar.
5.00: Sitting in car trying to decide if we should try to catch some shut eye.
5.20: Coffee drunk. We lie down. Kirsty falls asleep. I lie wondering why I love dogs. Thoughts move on to last time I spent 24 hours awake. Memory corrupted ... can't locate ... nausea ... head hurts ... darn dog ... darn vets ... darn car ... when did I last stay awake 24 hours ... memory gone ... sleep ... sleep .. wtf can't sleep ... why is Kirsty sleeping ... should poke her ... no she needs the sleep ... nausea ... thoughts of balmy beaches, soft winds replace sounds of bird songs ...
6:00 Phone call: Bala can go home.
6.02: Inside hospital we discover that it is a rare condition that affects the nerves in the lower jaw that results in a frozen jaw. Will have to feed her by hand and syringe water down her throat. Oh yippy, I think, more tasks but Bala is so thrilled to see me and I am so relieved that she has not had a stroke or something worse that I forget about being exhausted. Sounds of some strange creature from seat nearby alarms vet tech and I. Kirsty is bent over informing us that she is ill. Rush to bathroom.
6.15: Leave vet with daughter and dog. Dog wagging tail. Daughter an interesting gray colour making gasps sounds similar to those of a goldfish out of water. We drive away heading for Rt. 2. Realisation slowly dawns that Kirsty's sense of distance and space might be radically affected by tiredness. As we head towards yet another guard rail I suggest that I drive. We switch over. Kirsty keeps reminding me that I am driving and not at home in bed. Fortunately between the two of us we have enough eyes to get us home.
7.20: In bed. Don't know or care about anyone or anything.
8.30: Cavalry arrives to help keep kids safe while we snooze.
9.45: "This is a reminder call from CVS pharmacy ..." KILL PHONE!
We managed to get a few hours of sleep and I am pleased to report that two weeks later Bala has made a 90% recovery and Kirsty and I are back to normal (what ever that is!)
Now all I have to do is casually 'discover' the missing candles and place them where some unsuspecting person can find them. (It still being assumed that they had been munched by Bala Bean ... oh well she's worked hard for six years to get the rep!)
Oh yes and today she turns six - cake to be bought - no candles!
No comments:
Post a Comment