It's been a really horrible week, full of sadness and lots of pain.
Dear old Roxy didn't make it. I managed to quell a fever that spiked very high on Sunday night, and in the morning, she was taken to the vet, Dr. Bo Bergloff, who advised that at her advanced age, the battle with the kennel cough would be the same, and so very peacefully, she took her journey to the Rainbow Bridge. She was cremated, and her ashes will come home Friday.
Two of the oldest dogs are hacking badly. Dr. Bo has left a prescription for them at a pharmacy. I will pick it up tomorrow. Poor Sophie has a runny nose - it will go from one to another. Until it is gone, I will be giving meds, including yucky cough syrup. Sophie has been in hiding all day. She wants none of that gawdawful stuff.
The puppy has been renamed Ziggy, and she is very sweet. She couldn't help if it she was wormy and was carrying it. She has gained about 3 lbs already and is happy being a puppy. She has taken up with Maya, my German shepherd, who treats her like a puppy of her own.
Vern, my red tabby rescue did not come home last night. I didn't see his body on the road, and his sidekick, Dottie, is missing him. They were partners in any crime of squirrel, bird and lizard hunting that was discovered here in the yard. We had a lot of lizards without tails because of Dottie. He is another worry.
Monday night pictures arrived in my email. My son's legs. Burned. A grilling accident. From the knees down. Second and third degree burns, and I hope you will keep us all in your thoughts
for a little while.
I haven't slept for a week now. I listen for dogs coughing. Now my son is keeping me up but tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and we will gather with the children and friends and be thankful it wasn't worse.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Be careful drive and I'll see you here Friday, if not before.
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