Weekly Briefing from the North Texas Apocalypse Bunker, 7/1/22
All About the Dog Edition
The entire staff here at the bunker must beg your indulgence; at the beginning of the week, it was our full intention to regale you with tales of our field trip to Oklahoma City to participate in the pop culture event known as SoonerCon; also, we had planned for an update involving my tumescent scrotum that utilized the metaphor of giving Jackson Pollack a Ghostbusters proton pack. Instead, all of that frivolity will have to wait in the wake of the bunker mascot’s minor medical emergency.
The Pupdate, Part 1: Incident Report from the Agency of Health and Wellness
Agency Administrator’s Preface: we would like to state, up front, so as not to bury the lead, that the bunker mascot is stable, in good spirits, and on crate rest at the vet. Furthermore, we’d like to offer up our conclusions as to how this happened. (1) she did it to herself. (2) it was no fault of any of the caregivers. (3) the squirrels may have been planning this for some time.
On Wednesday, the bunker administrator, the head of bunker ops, and the bunker mascot all jumped into the Specter (we’ve officially christened the Prius) for a quick-turnaround-trip to Waco. We were on a mission to surprise Janice’s cousin on her birthday, which Janice has never once missed, thus keeping the streak alive. We’d spend the night and boogie back the next day.
The trip is 3-5 hours long, depending on which way you go and how desperate you are to get there. We opted for the quickest route, which ended up being about 4 hours in all, but not too shabby for hopping onto South I-35W at Fort Worth and driving like a bat out of hell into Waco. I only had to scream “WITNESS ME!” twice, which, as anyone knows who has driven Texas’ own Fury Road before, was a rare and wondrous thing in and of itself. Less than three near-death experiences on I-35 in one day? What was this, Christmas?
The family was all surprised and excited to see us. Sonya was thrilled to be out and amongst people. I’ve never seen a dog so eager to get into a car for a ride, and so eager to get out the second it stops. She stretched out on the kitchen tile to cool off her belly and we got her more or less squared away with water and food. She may have also gotten a couple of pieces of birthday party brisket, but this is still being investigated.
We were all eating and chatting amiably when Janice’s brother said, “Hey, Sonya’s limping.”
I went outside to investigate, expecting to find her digging a sticker out of her toes, which was pretty common. Instead I found her hobbling, dragging her back leg. She was still bouncing around, running this way and that, and it took a minute to corral her. During this time, I got the story. She spotted a squirrel in the front yard and hit the front door with both paws and her biscuit-shaped cranium and took off like a shot. Zane immediately called her back in, and herded her through the house and out into the back yard. All normal stuff. He was watching her run around when he noticed her limping.
So, what happened? The working theory is that my eleven-year-old goofus, known also as Ku-Ah-Oh, The Destroyer of Squirrels, rocketed out the front door, forgetting her age, and stepped into a hole, or jumped weirdly over something, or maybe just moved too far, too fast. But she did it to herself, whatever it was, and was reluctant to slow down, which was making her limp worse.
I started to panic, but thankfully Janice’s family is full of dog people and they knew about the nearby Emergency Vet Clinic. I called to make sure they were open and they assured us they were and to bring her right in. We carefully loaded the bunker mascot into the back seat and drove off. We didn’t even have time to say proper goodbyes.
The Pupdate, Part 2: The Veterinary Emergency Clinic
We pulled up to the clinic at 8 PM, and the parking lot was crowded. There was even a young woman sitting outside in the grassy area next to the building with a large Rottweiler, presumably waiting her turn. I left Janice and the dog, who reeeeeally wanted to go make friends with the Rottie, and went inside. There were four people in the waiting room, and I could hear both exam rooms were occupied.
I talked to the receptionist and told her why I was there, and she gave me a form to fill out and told me they were very busy, but that I’d get a call as soon as a room opened up. I asked her when that would be. She shrugged apologetically and said, “Maybe an hour?”
Her advice was to just keep Sonya in the car until they were ready. Behind me I could hear the elderly couple talking to the young man in his late teens. They said, “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” he replied, and then he got up and went into one of the exam rooms. I could see there were five or six people already in there. I swallowed hard and tried not to think about it.
Outside, the young girl was now crying into her dog’s neck. He didn’t look sick. He seemed happy to be outside, getting loved on. I knew what she was waiting for, now.
Janice and I sat in the car, windows rolled down, and tried to keep Sonya calm and not barking at everyone and everything that walked by, including the Rottie and her owner. Of course, Sonya didn’t know what was going on, and how could you explain it to her, anyway? On top of my worry about her leg, I was very sympathetic to the woman who just wanted to say goodbye to her dog in some peace and quiet.
In the time we were waiting, over a hour, we watched two families bring out cardboard boxes or body bags, and then the woman and the Rottie disappeared inside. Soon after, I got the call that an exam room was open, and two orderlies came out to help me ease the dog out of the car. We limped her in, got her weighed, and more or less settled in the room to wait. Sonya was tired and now in some noticeable pain.
We cooled our heels for another half hour before the vet finally showed up. I went over her medical history and he got her up on the table and started fiddling with her leg. He quickly confirmed a few things. No, she hadn’t broken anything, and it wasn’t a problem with her foot. However, she did rupture one or both of the tendons on her knee that keeps her tibia and patella stabilized. Her joint was loose, and it’s painful. He called it something that sounded like the cruciatus curse and said, “She’ll need surgery.”.
Well, sure, I thought, I’ve watched two euthanized pets come out of here in an hour. And there’s one in the building now about to head to the farm upstate as we speak. I’m sure all of the problems here are catastrophic and dire, but I have more faith in my dog. She’s had a back leg injury before and recovered nicely with pain meds and no stairs. No offense, doc, but I will get a second opinion before I schedule surgery.
They gave her a shot and a different painkiller than the one she took daily. It was after 10:30 when we finally left. We were all pretty tired. Sonya was tripping balls on some good doggy downers. Janice had been keeping me calm for three hours straight. And I’d been busy putting all of the blame on my shoulders, i.e. “If Only I had left her behind,” and “If Only I’d walked her outside myself,” and so on and so on. Not productive.
Torn tendons weren’t the end of the world, but surgery and recovery would be very difficult to manage with all of the stairs in Sonya’s life. I worried differently and slept very little.
The Pupdate, Part 3: Current Status
After re-convening with Janice’s family for a brunch-ish breakfast, we installed Princess Wigglebottom in the back of the Specter and made best speed back to Vernon. It wasn’t an ideal visit, and I felt guilty about having to cut everything short, but Janice’s family was more than understanding and supportive, and their genuine well-wishes and affection for both me and the bunker mascot really helped ease some of my anxiety.
We slid into town like Burt Reynolds in the Cannonball Run and drove straight to my vet, a family-owned business that has been looking after Sonya (and me) from day one. Rob examined her leg as I told him what the vet said. When I got to the part where the emergency room vet told me about the lateral movement of her knee bones, Rob said, “she’s had a little movement in her joints for a while, now.” Aha, I thought. I knew it. To a hammer, every problem is a nail. To an emergency care vet, every injury is a crisis.
Rob proceeded to explain to me the ins and outs of treating a prb cruciate tear, not a cruciatus tear, which is a Harry Potter curse, not a canine knee injury. In my defense, you can hear it when you say it out loud, right? Anyway. It’s not certain just how jacked up Sonya’s knee is, but given that the last time she had a back leg injury, we put her on rest and a painkiller and she has been bounding up and down the stairs like a puppy ever since, we all felt that it was worth trying a non-surgical solution first.
As of right now, she’s on several painkillers, and on crate rest at the vet’s office, because there are no concrete steps for her to navigate if she has to pee. On the plus side, there are also horses and goats, and my dog has never met a stranger, so she’s thrilled for the smells. I’ve ordered her a back leg knee brace that will come in after the 4th of July, and we will fit her for it and see if that doesn’t help out, along with the pain meds she’s on. We also have a sling that we can both use to carry her, like firewood, up and down the stairs, as needed.
The Pupdate, Part 4: Administrator Notes and Debriefing
When I got out of my vet’s office, having dropped her off and being assured that she’ll be looked after while she rests, I sat in the car and cried. The sense of relief that washed through me was profound. My stomach started to unknot itself, and I felt like I was able to breathe for the first time in 24 hours.
I’ve mentioned before that Sonya’s mom was Cathy, and that they were pretty inseparable from day one. She had a different relationship with me; I was the boss, clearly, but Cathy was like her big sister. Cathy put a lot into Sonya, and I am certain that she gave Sonya a little piece of her soul.
In the past, I’d have an idle thought about Sonya dying and it would always make me cry. I couldn’t fathom it, and I’d tried several times to envision what that situation might look like and how it might play out, to no avail. Always better to think about right here, right now, with dogs. They live in the same moment that we live in.
With Cathy’s passing, I’ve been forced to acknowledge that Sonya would not always be with me, and I’ve taken steps to keep her healthy, protected, loved, and pampered ever since it became “just the two of us.” Janice stepped into the role of “step-mother” with relative ease, and Sonya picked right up on what she was supposed to do. She’s already protected Janice actively once, and now she clocks where we both are whenever we are in separate rooms. She loves to hang out with Janice. It’s like she got a new big sister. I couldn’t be more grateful or lucky.
But my dog is eleven. And breeds her size have an average life span of around 12-13 years. Of course, she’s in otherwise excellent health, and she’s not overfed and maintains daily walks and affection. I keep her from extreme heat, feed her human-grade dog food, and in all other ways do whatever I can to beat the average.
That’s all it is, though, isn’t it? Just moving the goalposts. It’s selfish on my part, but also, I think about what Cathy gave to Sonya, the love, the attention, the energy. The warmth, the sweetness, the affection. Her best parts are Cathy parts. By taking care of Sonya, I am trying to nurture the last piece of Cathy that yet exists.
Janice was my hero through all of this. She took charge of both me and the dog when neither one of us was in our right minds. She did the lion’s share of the emotional support, which was all that kept me going during the interminable wait in the emergency room, the long drive home, even in trying to help me sleep (that would have taken a tranquiller rifle like what Jim used to use on the rhinos on Wild Kingdom). Only after we got home, really home, did she allow herself to feel some of the pent-up anxiety that she’d been having through all of this. I could not have a better partner, friend, wife-to-be by my side through the next phase of Sonya’s life. When I said “grateful and lucky” earlier, I meant it tenfold for Janice.
Janice’s family, too, was incredible. They stayed with us through the whole ordeal, texting updates, taking care of us both, and even Sonya got some extra TLC. When Zane couldn’t make the Thursday morning brunch, he swung by the house where Sonya was convalescing and gave her some treats and some belly rubs and made sure she was looked after so that Janice and I could eat. I’m marrying into an exceptional family.
I said it before and I’ll say it again: Grateful and lucky. Me and the dog.
In Other News...
Okay, now that I’ve made some of you cry, let’s see if I can make you laugh a bit. Below are some links for your perusal. The first two come from Robert E. Howard days, from early June. One of the panels I moderated, on the influence of REH on Gaming, was captured by Josh for the Cromcast, an award-winning podcast about Sword and Sorcery, REH, all that kind of thing. Their past episodes are so worth exploring. One of my favorite places of podcastery.
The Influence of REH on Gaming
The other video was recorded by my friend, Ben Friberg, who has been the Howard Days videographer out of the goodness of his heart for some time, now. This is me and Chris Gruber, reading at the Ice House. If you like this video, Ben’s got a lot more where that came from. Also highly recommended.
Fists of the Ice House with Finn and Chris Gruber
And finally, a podcast I somewhat regularly appear on, this is the Anniversary of the Rocketeer movie podcast on The 42cast. Listen as we wax euphoric about one of the best non-Marvel super hero movies of all time.
The 42cast: Rocket Man
https://42cast.com/index.php/2022/06/27/the-42cast-episode-156-rocket-man/
We’ll get back to the dick jokes next week. I promise.
Sonya wanted me to thank you all for the well-wishes. I will leave you with this photo of her, walking wounded, but still looking goofy.
Glad to hear she's on the road to recovery and hope you have quite a few more years with her yet. Our old lab., who have a similar life expectancy , was only a month off 16 when we finally had to say goodbye.
Love and hugs to three of you. I wish it didn't take stuff like this to ind a family. But it often does.❤️🔥