The Cavalier King Charles Spaniel travels around with its nose in the dirt, tail high, ears dragging a trail through the dust. So many smells, so little time.
On our hike yesterday, Abby began staggering, then fell down, twitching pitifully. My first thought was she'd been bitten by a rattle snake, which in a dog her size (14 pounds) I knew would be fatal. Panicked, we grabbed her up, running to the house while looking for a bite location on her, which we never found. Having had experience with poisoned dogs and allergic dogs, I immediately gave her a bowl of milk and the only antihistamine I had, a people size Benadryl. Then I figured I'd poisoned her myself. The spasms went away before she got into a full fledged seizure. Of course it was Sunday—my vet was 2200 miles away, and the closest one had only given Abby a rabies shot a couple of weeks ago. The local vet's answering service gave me the number of an urgent care vet—the real advantage of living in more civilization.
They told me my 25 mil. Benadryls for people wouldn't really harm Abby and if she'd avoided a seizure, she'd probably be okay. But to watch for more symptoms and of course to expect her to sleep for 24 hours.
Darrel and I finally decided Abby must have been stung by a bee, a wasp, a centipede or a scorpion. No swelling has arisen that we can find on her, but what can you see under five pounds of fur?
I feel very lucky it wasn't a snake that got her, and I have pointed out to her that all those buzzing spring blossoming bushes are only there to do her harm. And now she has to stay on a leash when we go outside. Isn't that sad? But it's better to be confined than dead I suppose.