Defying the odds…

Yo. Blog people. Elroy here. You haven’t heard from me in some time because the Imp likes to blabber on more than moi, and well, I wasn’t feeling all perky and happy for a while there. As you probably know, I got bit by a tick and became pretty darn sick. Yo. I’m a poet. Anyway, I got tick sick.

As you may know, I’m not exactly what one would call a “foodie” at the best of times – and when I was sick, eating was the LAST thing on my mind. I lost about 12lbs in a very short time.

I want to forget my days in the vet hospital -although I definitely have PTVS- post traumatic vet syndrome – because now whenever I step into ANY vet clinic, I shake. And I squeak. Continuously.

Throughout the month of September and October, getting me to eat was like a science experiment. Or maybe an Olympic sport. That required LOTS of endurance. While I probably should have adhered to a low protein diet, that requirement went out the window. The goal was to get me to eat. Anything. Absolutely anything. Her Highness knows the people who work at every single pet store in the region – and probably every butcher shop too. And of course, the attempts to find something I liked, resulted in some pretty interesting bowel movements. If I do say so myself. Some of which were NOT very nice. Or controlled.

Yo. Enough about that. From September to the end of October, Her Highness accounted for every single calorie I ate. If I ate a biscuit, she checked the bag to see how many calories were in it. She wrote down EVERY morsel I ate. We never shared this – but in September, our vet had said that if I didn’t maintain a certain caloric intake, I would be “starving to death.” So Her Highness was on a mission to be sure that didn’t happen.

Now some days were pretty brutal – with her syringing liquid food into my mouth. It wasn’t nice for any of us. And finding things I would consistently eat was a challenge. Mind you – that’s ALWAYS been an issue for me. My tastes change. Rapidly.

There were – and continue to be, ups and downs in my eating. Like the past three days (leading up to my vet visit) I decided supper should be optional. But since November, I have generally been eating two meals and a bunch of snacks each day. I will eat sweet potatoes ANY TIME. And I feel good. I love to go for walks, and car rides and I still like wrestling with the Imp. As long as he doesn’t bite me. He’s a rough wrestler.

Anyway, today I went back to the vet. She had not seen me since mid-September.

Despite the fact that I practically needed to be dragged into the clinic, I did get on the scale. And I weighed 7 1/2 lbs more than the last time I was there. Call me the Hulk. Hardly – but a guy can dream. While I was waiting for the vet to come into the room, I literally shook from head to tail. And I squeaked. A loud squeak that could be heard throughout the clinic. Her Highness tried everything to calm me down. She tried petting me. Didn’t work. She tried cajoling me. Didn’t work. She gently held my muzzle. Didn’t work. She tried ignoring me. Didn’t work. I wanted OUT.

I was fine with the vet, although the entire time Her Highness and the vet were talking, it was over my incessant squeak. The vet examined me, and all seemed fine. She said she was pretty surprised to see how much weight I had gained. She wanted to do some blood tests and she also wanted to take a look at my pee. I was great for the technician who took my blood, and I willingly peed outside for another tech – whose hand I peed on. But she did catch enough in a bottle to analyze the yellow stuff.

The vet called a few hours later and she said “well- he’s defying the odds. His kidney values are better again.” Overall I had a few anomalies in my results – but as the vet said -“nothing horribly alarming.” So we stay the course. Her Highness will continue to jam 6 pills down my throat each day. Yeah – I have an incredible talent for finding pills in anything. Peanut butter. Bread. Pill pockets. Yogurt. Heck- I can even spit them out if you don’t put them all the way back in my throat. It’s my special talent. So they have to be jammed way in. I’m used to it.

So keep those prayers, healing vibes and positive energies coming this way. I thank each and every one of you who have sent them – they CLEARLY have worked. I’m defying the odds. Go figure. The Boss says that’s no surprise as I’ve always been odd.

Guess I can start thinking of a letter to Santa. And I MAY even pose for some Christmas photos. We’ll see….I’m not big on antlers.

Have a good one. Peace and paws up. Stay safe. JBJ.