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I’m the crazy dog mom

Thursday, February 11, 2021
I’m the crazy dog mom

Sometimes I surprise myself.

That happened this week when I was on the phone with our Vet’s office, going over surgery day instructions for my beloved Pirhana-Weimaraner mix, Erma, and I morphed into a crazy dog mom.

The only thing of mine that Erma has failed to eat - my heart - she has captured. The little jerk.

For the past few months, Erma’s eye has been swelling up and they initially thought it was allergies, so we’ve been treating it with steroids. Since it is not working and she is asking repeatedly for a gym membership, we revisited it with the vet who wants to check her teeth but has to put her under anesthesia to do it.

Those teeth have shredded a lot of things including, but certainly not limited to - a couch arm, grass, rocks, most of a beach towel, cup towels, socks, pens, highlighters (astrobright pink is her fave!), cash, credit cards, ad copy, blankets, post-it notes, pillow cases, her own toenails, paper towels, tissue .... I hope you get the picture because I could go on forever. She has a bit of a problem.

She also suffers from anxiety issues which manifest themselves in myriad ways including barking at cases of water and locking me out of the house. I know, it’s a lot to unpack.

She’s the only dog I know who has her own Xanax prescription, and it’s maxed out.

Her biggest kink, though, is food and that was made even worse by the steroids. She could set your watch by her eating and snack times, and she has no thumbs.

Although Erma’s surgery will be this afternoon, she had to be at the vet by 8 in the morning, with no breakfast in her perpetually hungry stomach.

When the lady at the vet’s office told me this, I said, I”m not sure you’re fully appreciating what we are dealing with here.”

For the most part Erma is content as long as three things are going on: 1) she is familiar with her surroundings 2) She has food or solid material of some sort in her stomach; and 3) Nothing is out of place. Sadly, all of that will be out the window Thursday, and I’m not sure there’s enough Xanax in Wichita County to make her zen between arriving at the vet and her surgery.

To be honest, I had a moment of crisis right there on the phone where I was certain nothing would be ok, ever again

So I’m worried for her, the little jerk. I’m her huckleberry, OK?

Luckily I’m not the first crazy dog mom they’ve dealt with. The vet very compassionately said they would try and get her in first before any other dog so I could get her quick and she won’t slowly decompensate from unfamiliarity and short-term starvation.

Erma will probably survive but I’m not so sure I will.

If you’re of the mind and inclination, please send some good Ju Ju for Erma, and also for me. She has no clue what’s going on, but I do and I’m not taking it well.