If it’s not one dog, it’s another.
And if it’s not one bodily function, it’s another.
This week, Husband and I took both dogs to the vet–at the same time.
(Yeah, it was about as fun as it sounds.)
Herky, the little one, had been running around on three legs for about five days, so I thought maybe we should get that checked out. Wouldn’t you know that he would start walking on that back leg the morning of our appointment. Of course. But the appointment was already made, and we figured it was a good opportunity for one of Herky’s favorite pastimes–having the vet stick his finger up Herky’s butt to see how his growth was faring that causes him to have to strain to poop unless he takes steroids and eats expensive special dog food.
Otto was a different story. He was continuing to create oceans of urine on our kitchen and living room floors, and I figured maybe it was about time to make sure there wasn’t a physical cause for this–besides him being a big jerk, which I just thought was probably the case.
As we waited in the exam room for the vet to come in, we heard a familiar voice from the other side of the door. It was Husband’s dad, and the dogs looooooove him. Apparently, we happened to have appointments for our dogs at the same time–small world. But the dogs did not care about the coincidence of it all. They just wanted Papa and started barking and whining more than they already were. It was delightful.
Finally, the vet came in and after visiting with us, he decided to do bloodwork on Otto to make sure he didn’t have diabetes or some other serious condition. Yep, I felt like a SUPER dog mom right about then, realizing he had been peeing everywhere for MONTHS and we were just now taking him to the vet to make sure nothing like DIABETES was wrong with him.
Fortunately, the bloodwork all came back good, and the vet set to check out Herky, rectal exam and all. Herky’s leg just seemed to be a pulled muscle, and the growth in his butthole (that’s the clinical term) seemed to be no bigger than last visit, so all was good there. AND Herky managed to not try to bite anyone without even having to don the muzzle. Score one for Herky!
Then the vet sprang on us that he’d like us to get a urine sample from Otto.
How does one go about getting this urine sample? I asked. I mean, I could probably use a turkey baster to suck it up off the floor, but I figured he probably wasn’t too keen on that idea.
That’s when he handed me a rubber glove and a small vial.
So when we got home and Otto whined at the front door, I put on my shoes, slipped on the glove and tried to sneak out the vial without Otto realizing what was happening. I followed him around, and when he squatted, I stuck my hand in that stream of urine as fast as I could.
Apparently, this took Otto quite by surprise, as he completely stopped peeing when I had barely filled the bottom of the container. He walked to the door, completely avoiding eye contact with me.
I think we had just shared a moment that Otto would rather have not shared with me. He continued to side-eye me for the rest of the evening, not trusting me not to thrust my hand in his pee again.
Trust me, Otto, it was just as awkward for me as it was for you.
That little vial of pee sat in my car (Fortunately, it was cold outside that day) while I was at school the next day, and then I took it in to the vet office. I just left my car running and didn’t even grab my purse, feeling like an idiot when the vet tech said, “That will be $39.” Oh, I guess I thought the $195 I spent the day before covered the pee, but apparently I was mistaken.
The good news? It wasn’t for nothing. Otto apparently had an abundance of some type of crystals in his urine that cause urinary tract infections. Too bad they weren’t the type of crystals you could sell on the dark web or make jewelry out of.
The bad news? He would have to be on a special dog food for the rest of his life. And he’s only 3. So today I went back to the vet AGAIN to drop another $57 for fancy dog food that would dissolve his crystals. We now have two dogs who each have prescription dog food for the rest of their lives, one for poop and one for pee.
But hopefully this will eliminate me stepping in Urine Lake Michigan in the middle of the night when I get up to –what else–let a dog out.
And hopefully this starts working before we put up our Christmas tree, because nothing says Merry Christmas like a puddle of pee under the stockings.