Poor Mollie has had a bad few days. She started itching on Saturday night and by yesterday morning had scratched great lumps of fur from her back. Poor darling looked as if she had eczema, so I whisked her off to the vet as soon as possible. Of course the first available visit wasn’t till 5.30 pm by which time I’d consulted various friends who gasped in horror and said, ‘Oh, Flowerpot. Poor Mollie!’
She did look pretty bad. Even I winced looking at her.
By the time 5.30 arrived I’d looked up eczema, mange and a variety of other skin disorders – cancer included – so you can imagine the state I was in. We got to the surgery which was full of yowling cats, but my weekly visits paid off and Moll just sat, then lay down at my feet and snoozed while I continued to hyperventilate.
The vet was young and Irish and very cheery, put up with Moll’s growling with amazing good nature and decreed that it was a hyperallergic reaction to a flea bite. As we’ve dosed her with Stronghold, that would rule out mange (she does roll in all sorts of ungodly things but the itching isn’t where mange would be), so that was another relief.
She’s now got some anti-inflammatory pills that she has to take a double dose of this week then cut it down to once a day next week, and that should do the trick. In fact she hasn’t itched since she came back so they must be working, and I am hugely relieved that it’s nothing more serious.
The only downside is that now she’s developed this hypersensitivity to flea bites, we have to be very careful it doesn’t happen again, so she must be topped up with Stronghold regularly.
Meanwhile, she looks as if she has galloping alopecia, poor darling. Luckily, given her innate sense of humour and smiling confidence, she carries on as if nothing’s the matter. What a girl!
And I leave you with a quote from my dear SIL that certainly applies to me and my Moll.
“If you have ever been called defiant, incorrigible, forward, cunning, insurgent, unruly, rebellious . . . you’re on the right track.” - Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Showing posts with label itching dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label itching dogs. Show all posts
Tuesday, 18 September 2007
Wednesday, 22 August 2007
Three Beautiful Things (and stuff)
The Thinker posted today about counting our blessings, or 3 Beautiful Things. So here are some of mine, to get us in a good mood on a beautiful sunny morning.
1. The view from my living room window. We look out on Flushing, a small village on the opposite side of the Fal river, which gets the sun all afternoon and evening (when there is any of course.) To the right of Flushing is Kiln Beach, then Trefusis Head, perfect for dog walkers. In front of that is the river, studded with yachts on moorings, the tiny ferry that goes from Flushing to Falmouth, carrying children to school. Today there’s a northerly wind ruffling the waves, splashing the sea gulls perched on visiting yachts. Further in the distance, round to the right, is the headland to the left of St Mawes, more dog walking heaven of green fields and trees with not a café in sight. To the far right of that is Falmouth Docks, a hive of industry (when all’s well) and a bussle of RFA ships, cruise ships and private yachts.
2. The soft perfume of a ripe nectarine (or peach), the soft yielding flesh as you bite into it, and the sweetness of the juice as it dribbles down your chin. You can tell my favourite fruit.
3. The sheer abandoned joy of Mollie, flying through a field of long grass with her ears flying, or splashing into the sea to swim out and retrieve a stick. Dogs can teach us so much about how to just get on and enjoy life.
On that note, many thanks to you all for your help and comments re Mollie’s itching which, touch wood, is a bit better today. Further and even more thanks to Eurodog for Plan B if it doesn’t clear up.
Tomorrow I am back working as a Port Rep – a fancy title for checking people in to the Van Gogh, a cruise ship that provides cheap(ish) cruises out of Falmouth. It used to be a reliable form of income but like so many companies, they have had to make extreme cutbacks. For work we have to wear a black suit, white shirt and red scarf (the latter items provided by the company). When they brought this rule in several years ago, I couldn't find anything to fit me so ended up getting a 13 year old's school uniform from Asda. Its shiny blackness sets me apart, I like to think, though perhaps not in the way that was intended.
But I digress. First part of check-in takes place in the Maritime Museum, for passengers arriving by coach. This lot have frequently travelled from as far as Scotland and are cranky and stiff when they arrive. The second part, for those arriving by car, takes place in a marquee down at the docks which will be cold and windy, as ever.
You’d think that people going on holiday would be cheerful, but it’s amazing how many are grumpy as hell. Still, it provides good copy - some great one liners.
Now, what are your Three Beautiful Things?
1. The view from my living room window. We look out on Flushing, a small village on the opposite side of the Fal river, which gets the sun all afternoon and evening (when there is any of course.) To the right of Flushing is Kiln Beach, then Trefusis Head, perfect for dog walkers. In front of that is the river, studded with yachts on moorings, the tiny ferry that goes from Flushing to Falmouth, carrying children to school. Today there’s a northerly wind ruffling the waves, splashing the sea gulls perched on visiting yachts. Further in the distance, round to the right, is the headland to the left of St Mawes, more dog walking heaven of green fields and trees with not a café in sight. To the far right of that is Falmouth Docks, a hive of industry (when all’s well) and a bussle of RFA ships, cruise ships and private yachts.
2. The soft perfume of a ripe nectarine (or peach), the soft yielding flesh as you bite into it, and the sweetness of the juice as it dribbles down your chin. You can tell my favourite fruit.
3. The sheer abandoned joy of Mollie, flying through a field of long grass with her ears flying, or splashing into the sea to swim out and retrieve a stick. Dogs can teach us so much about how to just get on and enjoy life.
On that note, many thanks to you all for your help and comments re Mollie’s itching which, touch wood, is a bit better today. Further and even more thanks to Eurodog for Plan B if it doesn’t clear up.
Tomorrow I am back working as a Port Rep – a fancy title for checking people in to the Van Gogh, a cruise ship that provides cheap(ish) cruises out of Falmouth. It used to be a reliable form of income but like so many companies, they have had to make extreme cutbacks. For work we have to wear a black suit, white shirt and red scarf (the latter items provided by the company). When they brought this rule in several years ago, I couldn't find anything to fit me so ended up getting a 13 year old's school uniform from Asda. Its shiny blackness sets me apart, I like to think, though perhaps not in the way that was intended.
But I digress. First part of check-in takes place in the Maritime Museum, for passengers arriving by coach. This lot have frequently travelled from as far as Scotland and are cranky and stiff when they arrive. The second part, for those arriving by car, takes place in a marquee down at the docks which will be cold and windy, as ever.
You’d think that people going on holiday would be cheerful, but it’s amazing how many are grumpy as hell. Still, it provides good copy - some great one liners.
Now, what are your Three Beautiful Things?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
