We had just finished our afternoon preprandial walk around the block. Since Ray knows that he is fed immediately after this exercise, it has become the let's-go-as-fast-as-we-can around the block. But with the cold weather and the extra ten pounds of clothing that I have to wear to stay warm, it has become more of a let's-lumber-like-the-giant-marshmallow-man-in-GhostBusters around the block.
When we got home, I turned Ray loose in the backyard. I needed to haul the trash bins to the curb and Ray always likes to announce the Rolling of the Bins. I watched as he took off like a rocket for the back fence then turned and dragged both of the bins through the gate. When I turned back to close the gate behind me, I glanced up. Ray was standing next to a tree in full-on flinch mode. I slammed the gate shut and raced for my dog.
By the time I got to him, Ray was rubbing his left eye with one of his paws. I put my hand under his head and forced it up to take a look. Usually when Ray runs into something, he hits the top of his head or his nose. This time he had taken the hit with his eye. The skin on the back of my neck crawled as I saw blood on the top and bottom lid and in both corners of his eye.
I took ahold of Ray's collar and led him to the house. Ray stood calmly as I gently wiped the area around his eye with a wet paper towel. I changed the towel three times, getting slightly less blood each time. His upper eyelid was starting to swell. I called the eye doctor.
"That's not good," said the receptionist as I told her what happened, "Bring him in now."
I bundled Ray into the car. Despite the rush hour traffic, we made it in less than half an hour, but still by the time we arrived, Ray looked like he was balancing a walnut on his forhead.
As soon as we entered the waiting room, one of the vet techs came to take Ray.
"I'm going to give him a shot of pain killer and one to take down the swelling," she said as she led him away.
I sat down. The waiting room was filled to capacity. To take my mind off, I chatted with the people opposite, asking about their dogs and telling Ray stories.
The eye doctor came out from the back.
"His eye is fine," she said, "The (glaucoma) pressure is still good. He just scratched his eyelids. We gave him a shot for the pain and one for the swelling. It should be down by tomorrow morning. I'll send you home with a gel for his eye. Just put it in three times a day. If you could wait, I'll type up the report."
The vet tech returned leading Ray. He immediately headed to the door and pressed his nose against the glass wanting to go home. I stood at the counter for a while waiting for the doctor's report, then when I realized that the doctor had resumed her appointments and that it was going to be awhile, I sat back down and waited.
Being the largest dog in the waiting room by at
least 40 pounds, Ray was garnering some attention and also some sympathy when people realized he was blind. But Ray was ready to go home. He ignored all the dogs and everyone in the room and just stood at the door, waiting.
I soon realized that the pain killer that Ray had been given was having some affect. He looked like a drunk standing at the bar swaying from side to side, waiting for one more drink. His knees started to buckle. An "aw" went up from the waiting room occupants. Ray straightened his knees and swayed a bit more, then rethinking his stance on standing, sank to the floor with an old man's groan and laid down in a Sphinx position. Another "aw" went up from the waiting room crowd.
I waited a bit then told the receptionist that I was going to put Ray in the car while he could still move. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to lift him in if he was going to pass out. I got Ray up from the floor, led him to the car, lifted his front feet into the back of the car, then hauled his rear end in after the front. Ray stood in the back, swaying.
"Lay down, Ray," I told my drunk dog.
Ray didn't move.
I returned to the vet's to get the report with the instructions and the gel, paid my bill and left.
Ray was still standing in the back of the car.
"Lay down, Ray," I told my drunk dog again.
Ray just looked at me blankly, swaying and drooling a bit. I wondered briefly if he had sustained some brain damage from the run-in with the tree, but by the time we got home, Ray was curled in the back seat in his usual tiny ball.
This presented another problem. Now that he was comfortable, Ray didn't want to move. I went to the house, deposited my belongings and then back to the car for the hound. I managed to get Ray to his feet and to the edge of the seat, then coaxed him out, holding him around his barrel chest so that he didn't do a face-plant when he jumped out of the car. Taking the path of a snake, Ray walked sinuously to the house under his own steam. He hesitated briefly when he entered the house, then headed straight to his spot on the couch where he remained for the rest of the night.
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If this house is going down, I want to be
with the guy wearing the flotation device. |
