patiodog wrote:Some of the shots cause abortion. Some don't. If the vet knew or should have known that she was pregnant and gave the type of shots that can cause abortion, he made a big mistake.
If he wasn't willing to at least ask his colleagues in other towns if they knew anything about the product, though, that's just lazy. Why can't the dog go see a vet where your sun lives? Can he not afford to do it or is there some other reason?
Also, is the dog a pit bull? There is a blood parasite that is widespread in American pit bull dogs, and it can be transmitted from the mom to her pups, so it might be a good idea to have her checked.
And last -- has the dog's food been increased since she got pregnant. By late pregnancy, a bitch should be allowed to eat pretty much as much as she wants, especially if she's carrying a big litter. This is also really important during lactation. If she's still eating the same amount of food or only a little bit more than she got before and she's moving into late pregnancy, she and her pups are starving.
no money is not his problem he just got scared and brought her to mama. he has me a grandbaby on the way so i am guessing he will bring the baby to me at the first sneeze.
about the food since i have had her i have been given her puppy food the vet here told me that that would be a good source of food also i give her chicken with the broth with rice and mixed vegetables so she eats pretty good i am taking her to a vet out of town in the morning so i will know more thank you a lot
yesterday i went and got her some chicken livers and she looks so much better this morning
Hi Patiodog. I have a little question (or two) you may know the answer (s)to. is there any chance that neoplasic cells could be present in the gut when infact the diagnosis is one of ibd? If the answer is yes, i wonder what the outcome of chemo in the absence of cancer would be? Just a thought! I hope your little chap is feelin good on the pred, i would most certainly be walking the same road as you in your circumstances. X
I don't know enough about clinical pathology to know the likelihood of confusing a diagnosis of IBD with one of neoplasia. I'm guessing that it's not very likely, though -- neoplastic cells usually have features that set them apart nicely from reactive cells. This isn't always the case, though, so I'm not really going to offer you an answer on this one. If there are genuinely neoplastic cells present, there's no way around the lymphoma diagnosis. It never hurts to get a second opinion, though in veterinary oncology there aren't that many places you can go.
Chemo in the absence of cancer pretty much amounts to a heap of the same side effects you see when cancer is present. Chemotherapeutic drugs work by killing off rapidly dividing cell populations -- tumors, yes, but also tissues with a high rate of regeneration, like the intestinal tract and the pink bits in the oral cavity and skin. There is a very slight risk that chemotherapy increases the risk of cancer down the line, but I doubt this is at all significant in dogs, given their short lifespan and the low doses of chemotherapeutic drugs they are given.
Very well. The dude's feeling pretty good on the pred, though he still tires easily. He's starting to put on some of the weight he lost during his 3 weeks of chemo. Not as muscled as he was, and he's definitely got steroid body -- and steroid crazy hunger -- but things are good right now.
Thanks for asking.
Glad to hear he's doing well, pd.
I was thinking about him the other day, remembering the palindrome,
sit on a potato pan, Otis and hoping he's well enough to go sit on a potato pan.
Glad to read he is.
Patiodog--
I'm glad to hear that Otis is active and ravenous. How are you doing?
Hey Pdog, how are you and your old buddy doing?
Reading roger's missing cat thread, got the buzzy notion to update here.
Otis is still kicking. He's actually put all his weight back on and has good endurance for swimming -- not for running, though, but he's always been a sissy for hot weather, and the midwestern mugginess has set in.
So that's a month and a half or so since his first dose of prednisone. The oncology people said "a month or two" before the tumor cells get resistant to it. He's been peeing a lot lately, and pissed himself in his sleep the other night, which is probably an early sign of elevated calcium due to the tumor starting to grow again. So it's time to start planning for a good way to put him down when he starts to act sick again. No word on how long we can expect that to be -- nobody keeps good statistics on particulars like how long to expect once a treatment fails, which I suspect is pretty variable anyway.
So it's all a waiting game now. Trying to take him swimming a lot, and he's getting lots of tasty people food along with his kibble -- which he's come to expect to the point that his head goes into the frig every time you open the door. Swam at a park he hadn't been to in over a year today, and his stump of a tail went nuts as soon as he realized where he was.
Good little dude. He's always tried to do the best he could, even if his instincts aren't always in line with what human society demands of a dog. He's a good herding dog, a good pack dog. He's a damn fine dog, full stop, and I appreciate every day I've got with him.
Bless his cotton socks...and yours.
That's funny. My grandmother (dog rest her bigoted soul) always used to say, "Well bless your (or her, or his) cotton-picking heart!"
Cotton picking? I know it's hard work, but your people never picked cotton. Peaches and oranges and grapes, sure, but never, ever cotton. Now, my grandpa's grandma was Cherokee, and the rest of his family history was pretty mysterious, and even though he said a lot of things that would turn a lot of people bright red now, when a black or Mexican family moved in next door he'd welcome them with open arms. Not so granny.
"Bless his cotton socks." Much nicer version.
Just gave him a good scruff rub. He's really got the best dog neck -- lots of loose skin (but not hanging in folds, hanging taught, somewhat adherent to the stuff underneath) with thick downy fur that's become almost mink-like after his winters in the sub-frozen midwest. So thick and protective that when swims the skin on his neck never gets wet. A good wolf's neck.
He's also heeler, and he's been pretty free and easy with the Dingo cries as summer sets in and his blood gets heated.
Oh, now I'm all teary. Pdog, your love shows. He's a lucky dog, you're a lucky man. Seems like you're doing everything right...... my thoughts are with you and Otis.
More than a month later, and the dude's still kicking. But time is running out, I think. He breathes more rapidly than he should, and last week he had a brief episode of bloody diarrhea -- lymphoma in his colon or ulcers from the prednisone -- either way not a good thing. That's since resolved, though.
I should be grateful, I suppose, now that it's overe three good months on a one-to-two month prognosis, but it's still hard to keep chin up for the guy.
He's still excited to swim, though, and his appetite is good, so it's better than it was before we knew what was going on.
I love my Otis. Tomorrow I'm going to call the vet and get the drugs to sedate him before the penultimate moment -- just to have them on hand when he's had his last swim, you understand -- and I don't know if I'll have the nerve to make the call.
And today he was upset and barking, and I got mad and made him come inside. Turns out he was barking because one of the other dogs jumped the fence and he wanted to let me know. Feeling like the asshole. He's a better dog than I am a person.
We'll be here for you, P'dawg. <offering a hand to hold>
sad......but he's done well.
It's all right. One of the things about dogs is that they live very short lives (compared to people), and dog people will live through the deaths of many dogs while they may never live through the death of a child.
It's just that this only my second one (after the dog I grew up with, an old English sheepdog who, rendered immobile by arthritis, suffered flystrike at about the same time I graduated from high school), and the whole process is acutely painful. I knew it was coming, I know it is coming. And he's a special sort of dog -- not "good" per se, but smart, loyal, and hourly dedicated to service -- that makes me feel particularly unworthy at his passing, for he has given his whole life for me and I only a comparatively minor portion for him.
But I've gotta say, if my parents felt shittier than this when my brother died, I should never have children.
patiodog wrote: He's a better dog than I am a person.
That's one hell of a good dog then.
