I spent yesterday morning with Abi at the vet’s office. She had all but stopped eating. And when Abi turns down her evening tablespoon of cottage cheese, that’s really remarkable.
Because she usually starts begging for it a good hour early.
My longtime vet, Dr. Wendy, did a urine test and blood work.
She called me later in the day and said that the urine test was fine.
But that her white blood cells were somewhat elevated.
had told me in the office that Abi’s gums were sore, and she cleaned
her teeth a bit. She gave her an antibiotic shot.
I have noticed that her breath is bad, but then she
hasn’t been chewing her dog bones.
Abi only liked to chew her plastic doggy keys, and has since birth. But a year or so ago she choked on a piece of one, and Wendy said: “No more keys for Abi.”
I have tried every type of bone to entice her. Once in awhile she will chew one for a minute or so. Then she drops it and looks at me as if to say: “I want my keys back.”
She has been acting so strange. Sitting outside in
pots. Lying under the bed and crying and whining
during the day.
But then Abi has never been your “normal” canine. She has a distinct personality and is demanding.
Normally, every evening when I turn the lights off for sleep, she puts me through her routine. Charlie is already in his spot at the end of the bed. But Charlie is pretty normal.
Here’s how this works: She will start making strange noises, like she’s talking. I will respond with one of a few sentences she wants to hear.
“Abi, come up here with mama.”
Whine, cry, talk.
“Where’s my girl?” And I can’t just say it. I have to say it like this or she isn’t happy. “W-he-r-e-‘s my g-i-r-l?”
In other words, I have to drag the words out and my voice at the end of girl has to go up high.
We will go back and forth for about five minutes. When she decides I’ve done this enough, she will start running up the doggy steps.
Then I will say, as though I’m quite surprised. “There she is!”
And she will then settle down.
She’s like a child that wants just one more story or one more glass of water before bed.
Abi has always been odd this way, unlike any other dog I’ve ever known.
But she’s my baby, even though she will be 11 years old in August, and Charlie in September.
When Dr. Wendy called me with the results of the tests, she asked where Abi was.
I told her that Abi was in the bath tub, furiously scratching the surface, because there was a fly inside and I couldn’t kill it.
Some things never change.