Sure, there may be some of you that view Albert Camus the late French Author, Philosopher and second youngest Nobel Prize for Literature winner, to be an adorable sweetheart, but the Albert Camus I am referring to is me & T-Bone’s lovable beagle.
When we awoke this Tuesday morning, we found little Albie vomiting frequently and behaving quite noticeably and uncharacteristically subdued. We immediately took him to the vet, where they did X-rays. Our little stinker had apparently had a hankering for speaker wires, where they had lodged in his intestinal tract. The awesome vets of Cottage Grove Animal Hospital sent us home with some high fiber dog food in the hopes he would be able to pass his high tech meal and avoid surgery.
Poor little Albie was in too much pain to eat or drink anything, and we kept close vigil on him that night. The next morning, Wednesday, he was still not eating, nor did he poop, so at noon we took him in again for surgery. The amazing doctors gave up their lunch breaks to perform what ended up to be three times more surgeries than originally expected, which took three times as long, but they managed to get most of the home entertainment delicacies from his now torn up gut.
Around 5:30 we were able to take him home, but his prognosis was scary: we were told he had a slim chance of making it through the coming 24 hours and a 70% chance of surviving from there on in. This was/is devastating. We took him home and again stayed by his side the rest of the evening and kept close vigil on him all through the night. He was so out of it most of the time, it was sad to see him that way. Later in the evening, he perked up a little, and we finally saw life in his eyes, and he looked like our Albert again – at least in his face.
That night we watched Marley & Me, which I suppose was a better time than ever. T-Bone and I have had to remain calm and collected through all this so as to keep our wits about us in order to clearly deal with this and to be able to decisively react in case of an emergency, and watching the movie allowed us to momentarily express our love and grief for our second youngest family member lying next to us, fighting for his life.
In the middle of the night, he got out of his bed and climbed up into our bed to lay between us. I believe he would not have made it had he spent the night at even the best Animal Hospital. Here, he was surrounded by his family – those he felt most comfortable with, those he felt safe with.
So, yesterday morning, he was able to drink and keep down a small amount of water, then two hours later he ate and kept down a small amount of bland food. This was a good sign. We took him in again to get his IV removed, then took him home again with instructions on helping him progress his recovery through the next week or two. He was doing well the rest of the day yesterday – eating a little, drinking a little, walking around a little, and taking his meds. Kept a close vigil on him again all last night, and all was relatively well.
This morning reminded me that he’s not in the clear, yet. He still hasn’t pooped, yet, and he hasn’t been drinking anything since earlier last night. Before, it would be frustrating and disgusting if he had an excremental accident on the floor, but if he pooped on the floor now, it would be the most beautiful poop I would ever have seen.
I hope he pulls through. It would be difficult losing Albert. Who else knows how to howl as well as Albert? Answer: nobody. Everyone has been so supportive through all this, giving us well wishes and prayers – I thank you all for being so caring. We appreciate it immensely.