Pride and Priorities

This is Pride Weekend, when we in the GLBT community celebrate how far we have come, the fact that we are proud of who we are regardless of anyone else's opinions of us, when we celebrate and affirm that we are all as meaningful and equal as every other person in the world. Generally, Pride weekend is scheuled to celebrate the anniversary of the Stonewall riots. Scott and I usually attend the Pride Parade and festival. Because we are, you know, gay, and proud of who we are in all aspects, and it's a wonderful life-affirming weekend. Even in fairly liberal Seattle, it's still a great time to be surrounded by people from all walks of life who show us that we're just as wonderful (fabulous, even) as anyone else.

We put out our flag on Friday:

But we ended up skipping the parade and rally and all the other Pride events. Something more important came up.

Kitty, one of our pups (okay, she's going on 11 years old) got sick. She threw up all over the bedroom Thursday night, and as delicately as I can put it, hasn't been able to keep any nutrients in her body for two days. We called our vet yesterday morning, and they said to take her to the doggie ER, which we did. Our poor baby could barely get up from the floor when we got her there; her temperature was very low (panic signal), she wouldn't eat, her eyes were all bloodshot ... not looking good. She's lost 15 pounds since last fall - not a bad thing for a somewhat pudgy pup, but not at all a good sign. The vet said she was very worried about her - she thought there may be some blockage or perforation of her digestive system, and because her temperature was so low, she was worried that Kitty was going into septic shock, which is extremely life-threatening. Scott and I had to coax her from the exam room into the hospital area.

Scott and I both thought that might be the last time we'd ever see her.

After putting down a deposit of about $1,000, we drove home in silence. Neither of us could say what we were thinking. We couldn't do a damn thing to make our baby feel better other than leave her in a strange place and hope for the best. So we went home. I cut the grass, because I needed something to do while Scott waited by the phone. Then it was my turn to sit by the phone while Scott took a break and went out in the yard for a while.

And we cried. We had to have the "how much can we spend on her if it's something terminal" talk. We knew we both felt the same way, but we have to anticipate the eventually inevitable.

The other dogs knew something was up. We could tell they were worried and knew that their Dads were upset.

We talked to the vet later in the afternoon ... they can't find anything majorly wrong. No bleeding, no blockage, no perforations. Her temperature came back to normal.

Today, her temperature is still normal. She's brighter, curious about everything about her, but still no interest in food or water. And her body is still expelling everything quite aggressively, but that could be a good thing. The vet thinks she may have gotten into something bad - god knows what.

We miss her. She's a big moose of a dog, and isn't a vision of patience with the other dogs, but she's a big furry cuddly baby. She's looking better, but not out of the woods until she starts eating and drinking again. I've always thought of her as "my" dog, only because Scott and I got her together. I'd give anything to take a nap with her right now.

How could anyone not fall head-over-heels in love with this creature?

Update: Kitty's home. She's still ... ahem... having some digestive issues. With the vet-recommended canned food, though, she's INHALING her food. And she's SO much more alert, responsive, and happy. And OH so happy to be home. We just took her for a short walk, and she was wagging her tail off like usual. Lots of meds and special diet for a while, but it looks like she's with us for a while longer. We're practically doing cartwheels of joy. Y'all just gotta meet her. A more grateful dog never existed.