Puppy Problems…

All dogs are puppies. Always.

If you’ve read our ‘about’ page,  you know we have six pets altogether, two dogs and four cats. Well, one of our pups, Bailey, was not doing so well. We’ve had her for nine years, and when we adopted her, she was estimated to be between five to seven years–at the time. That makes her a fourteen to sixteen year old puppy. So yeah, she’s old.

When we returned from our last weekend away, just as we were going to pick up both puppies from our pup sitter, the sitter called us in a panic because Bailey had a seizure of some sort. The three adults hoped into a car and headed over immediately.

During the drive, we got all the details of what happened, and I got on the phone calling our vet. Who was closed. It was Sunday. After hunting online, (have I mentioned I love technology at my fingertips?) I was able to find a puppy hospital that was open 24/7 nearby. We picked Bailey up, left Princess behind to be picked up by Bina and Ri, then headed to the hospital.

This was an incredibly horrible event, especially after such an amazing weekend. We had such a great time, only to come home to such a frightening moment.

For the next five or so hours, we received more and more bad news.

The cavity around Bailey’s heart was filled with fluid, as was her stomach, but the fluid around her heart was preventing it from beating as it should. That was the first round of bad news. The second came when they drained it out. The fluid around her heart included blood, so there was a wound somewhere in or around her heart.


Her blood wasn’t clotting. In addition to all this, there are indicators that she may have tumors.

As good as Saturday had been, Sunday was it’s opposite equal, full of sadness and frustration.

I was the first to break down. As the vet gave us the details and possible outcomes of the situation, tears just rolled down my face.


I know she’s old.

All that live will one day die. Including myself. My husband/partner. My children.

It’s life.

But it sucks. So fucking much.


So I cried.

At some point, I noticed I wasn’t the only one who needed tissues. Catie and I had a few hugs as we tried to support each other through this nightmare. And I felt twice as bad knowing Catie was reliving her old pup’s end, when Daphne passed away.

When the vet’s were done draining the fluids around Bailey’s heart and stomach, they brought her back to us for a little bit.


And I cried some more.

My poor pup was bandaged up, with a catheter still on her paw, shaking like a leaf and whining. All I wanted to do was grab her and run. My poor old lady pup, who was terrified of vet office because she was abandoned at a vet’s office all those years ago, was forced to get drugged, poked, and stabbed. And though it was for her benefit, she didn’t understand. All she knew was that she wanted to go home and couldn’t.

Even as I write this, over a week later, my heart still aches. And it’s becoming difficult to see the screen as the tears spill over.

Bailey ended up staying overnight for a couple of units of plasma. The next morning, I called her usual vet and had a conference call with the hospital doc. An action plan was put in place and she was able to come home that night.

We’ve been extra cautious with her, watching her every move. And so far, I’m happy to report that she’s behaving like her usual self. Her fur hasn’t grown back yet from the areas they shaved off, but she’s active and excited for food again, going so far as to bite our fingers when we offer her tidbits. (We wrap her meds in cheese or ham. She won’t take them otherwise. Brat.)

Keep your family close and love them. As much as you can, for as long as you can.



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