My new baby . . . UPDATE, Kona is at rest
May 21, 2015 7:32:46 GMT -5
Olga, Fran, and 1 more like this
Post by zephyrhillsusan on May 21, 2015 7:32:46 GMT -5
ADVISORY: Do NOT read this at dinner! 
The best-laid plans of mice and men . . . I had a plan Saturday, but nothing I planned happened, and a lot I didn't plan did happen. Well, actually, the first planned part of the day did happen, just not HOW I planned it, and that's why the rest of the day went the way it did . . . I'm waiting on Siobhan to calve, due May 26, but hugely bagged up, mucus every few days, springing but not too much, and she's a bit big (ahem) to easily feel her pelvic ligaments.
I planned to meet with a shut-in lady from church, and when I got there I told her I needed to leave in an hour. Just as I was trying to leave, she dropped a bombshell, and I couldn't get away for 23 more minutes. I had to abandon going to the bank to deposit a check because the bank would be closed, so I went straight home. As I turned into our road, talking to my sister on my phone, I said, "Wait! There's a tiny puppy!"
There was a tiny little puppy that ran away from the road towards some woods when it saw me, so I hopped out of the car and went towards it. It kept running, so I stopped, crouched down and called, "Here, puppy! Here, puppy!" It turned and came toward me, and let me pick it up. It looked like a little collie or sheltie, just skin and bones. I went up the nearest driveway to a neighbor we'd never met, but it wasn't theirs. They were pretty sure the lady across the road, who has about half a dozen collapsing dog kennels, raises shar peis or something, and anyway, if it was hers, I wasn't going to take it back, given its pathetic condition.
I tried calling my vets, but they all closed early and didn't answer.
The puppy curled up in my lap, and I drove it home. Kara and I gave it a drink of water, then bathed it. It was covered in ticks, I thought maybe about a hundred, but that ended up being way optimistic. Then we wrapped it in a towel, gave it more water, and fed it a Tbsp. of milk and a couple tsps. of congealed meat blood from some pâté Kara made yesterday. We got a tweezers and alcohol, and I started pulling ticks off its face. I couldn't get their heads out, and the poor baby yelped each time, although he didn't fight me. I realized that I could make him sicker if he had a reaction to the tick heads being left in. Kara offered to help me pay the bill at the emergency animal clinic, and she drove us there.
On the way, we came up with a name for the puppy: Kona. It's a Hawaiian trade wind. My first Sheltie, Zephyr, was named after a gentle breeze. Misty is short for "Mistral," a gigantic, powerful French wind. Jet, Zephyr's successor, is a Sheltie, name after the Jet Stream because he's fast (and black). Years ago I had a wonderful dog named Alizée, which is French for trade wind. So we decided Kona was perfect for him, since he blew into my life unexpectedly!
At the clinic, a tech began helping to remove ticks. Then poor Kona kind of collapsed on us, so she fed him and drew some blood. While we waited for the vet, I got more ticks off, using a hemostat and dropping the ticks in a vial of alcohol. There were some HUGE ones, and even more scabs where huge ones had dropped off after laying their eggs, and he was infested with the tiny baby ticks that would be clustered around the scabs. We got more than 20 just out of his ears. They were between his toes and in the tender crevices of his pads, around his rectum, on his belly, his lips, his eyes. I ended up at 150, and we still had his rump and tail and a leg to go. There were easily going to be over 200 ticks on that poor baby. He only weighed 2.5 lbs. at probably 6 weeks old. His blood sugar, after the food, was 62, and it should have been over 100. His gums were almost white, and his tongue was barely pale pink. His Hematocrit should have been 35, and it was 11! Basically, the ticks had drained him of nearly 2/3 of his blood. The blood in the tube looked like red water, not thick like blood should. I opted to leave him there in ICU. He got a blood transfusion, a tetracycline prophylactic against tick-borne diseases, a treatment for intestinal parasites, re-feeding therapy, IV fluids, and close monitoring. The vet believed he'd make it, but I did choose DNR in case his heart stopped. He had no physical resources at all, and I didn't want to torture him if he wanted to give up, poor baby.
Herb was not thrilled to hear that I wanted to keep a stray puppy I picked upon the road, giving us four dogs, but once he met Kona, he changed his mind. And he never even once asked "How much is all this going to cost?" I explained to him that Kona is "an act of God" because He delayed me coming home till the exact moment that Kona would be there. And I also explained that when I set Kona in my lap and he curled up, he burrowed his way into my heart!
So here's our new baby--not the calf I expected, but hey, I did name my blog "ADVENTURES on Zephyr Hill Farm!"
I should have named it "Dull Days on Zephyr Hill Farm," but I didn't! Oh, and Siobhan is very considerately holding onto that calf to give me time for multiple puppy feedings a day, taking him out to go potty, and getting in lots of cuddling. Isn't she a sweet cow?!
P.S. Sorry if you were expecting calf photos!
The best-laid plans of mice and men . . . I had a plan Saturday, but nothing I planned happened, and a lot I didn't plan did happen. Well, actually, the first planned part of the day did happen, just not HOW I planned it, and that's why the rest of the day went the way it did . . . I'm waiting on Siobhan to calve, due May 26, but hugely bagged up, mucus every few days, springing but not too much, and she's a bit big (ahem) to easily feel her pelvic ligaments.
I planned to meet with a shut-in lady from church, and when I got there I told her I needed to leave in an hour. Just as I was trying to leave, she dropped a bombshell, and I couldn't get away for 23 more minutes. I had to abandon going to the bank to deposit a check because the bank would be closed, so I went straight home. As I turned into our road, talking to my sister on my phone, I said, "Wait! There's a tiny puppy!"
There was a tiny little puppy that ran away from the road towards some woods when it saw me, so I hopped out of the car and went towards it. It kept running, so I stopped, crouched down and called, "Here, puppy! Here, puppy!" It turned and came toward me, and let me pick it up. It looked like a little collie or sheltie, just skin and bones. I went up the nearest driveway to a neighbor we'd never met, but it wasn't theirs. They were pretty sure the lady across the road, who has about half a dozen collapsing dog kennels, raises shar peis or something, and anyway, if it was hers, I wasn't going to take it back, given its pathetic condition.
I tried calling my vets, but they all closed early and didn't answer.The puppy curled up in my lap, and I drove it home. Kara and I gave it a drink of water, then bathed it. It was covered in ticks, I thought maybe about a hundred, but that ended up being way optimistic.
Then we wrapped it in a towel, gave it more water, and fed it a Tbsp. of milk and a couple tsps. of congealed meat blood from some pâté Kara made yesterday. We got a tweezers and alcohol, and I started pulling ticks off its face. I couldn't get their heads out, and the poor baby yelped each time, although he didn't fight me. I realized that I could make him sicker if he had a reaction to the tick heads being left in. Kara offered to help me pay the bill at the emergency animal clinic, and she drove us there.On the way, we came up with a name for the puppy: Kona. It's a Hawaiian trade wind. My first Sheltie, Zephyr, was named after a gentle breeze. Misty is short for "Mistral," a gigantic, powerful French wind. Jet, Zephyr's successor, is a Sheltie, name after the Jet Stream because he's fast (and black). Years ago I had a wonderful dog named Alizée, which is French for trade wind. So we decided Kona was perfect for him, since he blew into my life unexpectedly!
At the clinic, a tech began helping to remove ticks. Then poor Kona kind of collapsed on us, so she fed him and drew some blood. While we waited for the vet, I got more ticks off, using a hemostat and dropping the ticks in a vial of alcohol. There were some HUGE ones, and even more scabs where huge ones had dropped off after laying their eggs, and he was infested with the tiny baby ticks that would be clustered around the scabs. We got more than 20 just out of his ears. They were between his toes and in the tender crevices of his pads, around his rectum, on his belly, his lips, his eyes. I ended up at 150, and we still had his rump and tail and a leg to go. There were easily going to be over 200 ticks on that poor baby. He only weighed 2.5 lbs. at probably 6 weeks old. His blood sugar, after the food, was 62, and it should have been over 100. His gums were almost white, and his tongue was barely pale pink. His Hematocrit should have been 35, and it was 11! Basically, the ticks had drained him of nearly 2/3 of his blood. The blood in the tube looked like red water, not thick like blood should. I opted to leave him there in ICU. He got a blood transfusion, a tetracycline prophylactic against tick-borne diseases, a treatment for intestinal parasites, re-feeding therapy, IV fluids, and close monitoring. The vet believed he'd make it, but I did choose DNR in case his heart stopped. He had no physical resources at all, and I didn't want to torture him if he wanted to give up, poor baby.
Herb was not thrilled to hear that I wanted to keep a stray puppy I picked upon the road, giving us four dogs, but once he met Kona, he changed his mind. And he never even once asked "How much is all this going to cost?"
I explained to him that Kona is "an act of God" because He delayed me coming home till the exact moment that Kona would be there. And I also explained that when I set Kona in my lap and he curled up, he burrowed his way into my heart!So here's our new baby--not the calf I expected, but hey, I did name my blog "ADVENTURES on Zephyr Hill Farm!"
I should have named it "Dull Days on Zephyr Hill Farm," but I didn't! Oh, and Siobhan is very considerately holding onto that calf to give me time for multiple puppy feedings a day, taking him out to go potty, and getting in lots of cuddling. Isn't she a sweet cow?!P.S. Sorry if you were expecting calf photos!
