Last week Saturday I noticed that Anna had not been her lively self for a while and I asked The One if he'd noticed too.
He said he had.
Since there was nothing wrong with her appetite we simply blamed the ongoing heatwave for her uncharacteristic lethargy and had another fag and a coffee.
Sunday afternoon she suddenly started limping and after our holy day nap we sweet-talked her into flipping onto her back so we could examine the paw we imagined to be causing discomfort. We discovered nothing except a rather disgusting blob of brownish pus/slime/phlegm/snot where she'd lain.
She was still eating well, so we weren't worried too much.
On Tuesday morning she abruptly stopped eating and proper worry took hold. I had suspicions that her malady had something to do with her having been in œstrus the week before, and about the sinister origins of the disgusting ectoplasm that started emanating from her you-know-what.
Thursday afternoon was the first chance we got to take her to the vet and after a brief examination he confirmed our fears: her unused uterus had become infected and was filled with slowly killing pus - called pyrometra. He admitted her to doggy hospital then and there; it was all shaved shins and drips and leaving her sad eyes behind in a big cage. She was to be operated on the next day.
It was extremely weird to have the bed all to ourselves that night.
At 11 on Friday the vet called me and explained that he'd performed a complicated hysterectomy, draining more than a liter of pus from Anna's fragile uterus before he removed it together with all of her gonads. All was well but she was still weak and he'd keep her on a drip until the next day.
As a boon, he'd removed her dew claws.
We were 15 minutes early to fetch our darling on Saturday and sat waiting in anticipation outside the closed gates.
The One settled the account (kindly funded by benefactors) while I trundled behind a veterinary nurse into the depths of the animal hospital to retrieve Anna. There she was, in the same cage where I'd left her before. At first she wouldn't acknowledge me. Then she became aware of my presence and cowered in a corner as if she'd done something wrong.
Apparently I'm terribly intimidating.
I had to drag her out of the artificial cavern; up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. Finally she spotted The One and was instantly transformed. Sweet little docked tail wagging, she dragged the two of us outside and nimbly jumped in the car as soon as I opened the door.
The One got in the back with her.
She grew more and more excited the closer we got to home. When I parked the car she was raring to go and as I opened the door she flew out, greedily sniffing her home turf she'd missed so much.
It's really good to have our pushy Rottweiler back in bed at night.
Written by I