My Dog Swallowed a Toy and Threw It Back Up Again
A trip to the emergency room for invasive surgery on your beloved pet is no one's idea of a romantic appointment night.
The Incident
My husband and I had merely sat down to dinner when we noticed Bea, our frenchie mix rescue domestic dog busily pawing through the wood bin side by side to the fireplace.
"What could she exist finding?" we wondered, as our busy Bea dug deep under the firewood. We had seen her strip bark off the logs before, and she certainly enjoyed hunting the occasional sleepy winter spider, so at commencement we didn't call up much of it equally we enjoyed our meal.
That is, until we heard the distinctive sound of a bouncy ball as it stuttered out of Bea's triumphant oral fissure and rolled away, only to be pounced on and reclaimed once again and again.
I immediately grabbed a juicy morsel of craven off my plate, prepared to make a trade.
"Bea! What have I got?" I asked her. She skittered and scampered around with her newfound treasure.
"Rudy! I called to my older, wiser, dog. "Sit down please!" Rudy dutifully comes to my side, sitting, drooling, and clearly aware of the loftier value care for at stake.
Bea on the other manus continues her victory laps effectually the living room. I give Rudy a bit of the meat, which finally captures Bea'southward attention. She sits nearby, merely just out of reach, nonetheless holding her dangerous prize firmly in her jaws.
I toss a niggling piece of chicken downward, ready to pounce on the ball the moment she drops information technology. What happens next plays out in my mind in tiresome motion but happened in just an instant.
She drops the ball.
She grabs the chicken.
She picks up the brawl again.
She swallows the ball.
She sits up and begs for another slice of craven.
She is, above all things, a canis familiaris of comedic timing.
"Did that just happen?" my husband asks. We look everywhere for the ball, hoping against hope this was all some kind of doggie sleight-of-paw. We move couches. Nosotros assess dark corners with flashlights. We call Emerald City 24hr Emergency Vet. Dinner goes into the fridge, and off we head to the clinic.
At the Clinic
We check in to the clinic and Bea is whisked immediately to the dorsum for Xrays.
The vet techs ostend what to look for in the Xray: a whole and unchewed ball, bigger than a golf ball.
We retire to a private waiting room to fill up out paperwork and await Bea's results. The veterinarian on duty stops in to hear our story in person. She doesn't quite believe any domestic dog worth its salt would choose to consume a ball on purpose, let alone eat it whole.
"Well that is just #$%ed." We share her sentiments.
She mentions some other surgery cases she has worked on and the options at paw. Information technology all depends on the relative size of the brawl to her body. She hopes to be able to work endoscopically, but given the size of the brawl, and being unsure if she will be able to spear the ball successfully with her endoscopic tools, nosotros hold regular surgery is more than likely to be necessary.
She excuses herself to confer with the radiologist. We expect and fret.
The Prognosis
The doctor returns. At outset the radiologist had thought the X-rays were showed aught, but looking closer (equally y'all can encounter in the image below) the clear and perfect sphere at the top of the stomach is the obstruction, and is visible in every digital film.
We are counseled through our choices with no force per unit area and as much explanation as we need.
The first option is to try to induce vomiting. The obstacle seems too large for this to piece of work so nosotros skip that step.
We can take Bea dwelling and wait to see if she tin can pass the obstruction the onetime fashioned way, only if the ball exits the tummy and gets stuck in the intestines, the surgery can be far more complex and dangerous so we skip that idea as well.
It comes down to operating on Bea that dark at the emergency clinic or waiting 'til morning time and hoping our regular veterinarian can fit her in that day.
The possibility exists that if we wait a 24-hour interval, the brawl could move onto the intestines or get lodged in the opening between the stomach and intestine, and so we opt for the immediate surgery.
Preparing for Surgery
The tech brings Bea out for us to love on for as long as we'd like. She's been sedated so she's extra cuddly and sweet.
We say our goodbyes and head across the street for some liquid courage. It is 12:30 am on a Monday night and we're toasting our beloved firecracker of a dog, who has only been in our care a few brusque months.
Bea found us through Northwest Bulldog Haven. We had been considering adding a new dog to our family for some time, and not seeing any specific dogs available in our area, I had written some generic applications to local rescues working with French bulldogs.
A foster family reached out to us from Bulldog Oasis nearly immediately, with a very active Frenchie/Boston mix who was "hyperactive" and "very vocal." She had been tried and rejected past a lot of potential adopters.
Nosotros met her and savage in love instantly. It took some time for that love to be fully reciprocated, but it was and then very worth information technology. We couldn't imagine losing her to a stupid accident after only a few brusque months of unlocking her personality and building the trust and agreement to make her feel similar part of our pack after then many rejections.
Recovery
Nosotros picked up Bea the next evening. She was loopy with sedation, shaved half-naked, and wearing the requisite satellite dish. Thus began the longest dark of my life.
Poor Miss Bea couldn't lie down or go comfy that dark (or the adjacent two).
I lay awake on the couch with her as she miserably tried to wedge her cone up on a pillow or piece of furniture to agree the weight of her head equally she tried to fall asleep standing upward.
As her legs began to inevitably collapse she would bound upwards shrieking and wailing and run around in circles panting simply to settle down and try it again and again.
She finally managed to pass out on her side at 5 am that first night for about xc continuous minutes (me besides).
I made "stairs" out of couch cushions so she could get upward and down without hopping and could prop her cone of shame in diverse ways.
The next morning time I took her to her regular vet for a check-up and to see if there were more sedation options to let her recover in peace.
The regular vet added an anti-inflammatory to the mix which seemed to help a bit. Although the head-propping sleeping-standing routine did continue for two more nights, each night she was able to surrender and lie downward on her side a little before than the previous, and slept all through the dark on the quaternary nighttime.
I stayed home with her and slept with her on the low bed in the guestroom. By day five she reached the "too active for her own good" phase of recuperation, finally pooped (showtime since the surgery), and could lay on a bed chewing a bone like the cone of shame was a fashion statement and not a torture device.
What I Learned
While I tin can't recommend emergency surgery every bit a training tool, the week I spent nursing my girl back to wellness has deeply strengthened our bond.
She and her dog brother Rudy had to be kept separate during her recovery, merely were delighted to play and walk together immediately subsequently the calendar week of isolation was over (she was very growly at him while she was hurt, understandably).
Source: https://www.rover.com/blog/true-story-dog-swallowed-a-toy/
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