September 30, 2012

White Dog opened a sleepy eye and looked at me. It was just Sunday, a bit past midnight. "Is it time to go already?" "No, Little One, get some rest we are taking Nuka to the Emergency Vet." "WHAT?" "Will fill you in when we know, we will be back as soon as possible."

With that Steve picked Nuka up in his arms and carried her out where he placed her in my arms for the ride across town.

We had just finished packing the car with the items we still needed to take to the Park in the morning to set up and hold the Walk to End Cancer. It was late; we were tired; we needed an early start to be there to build tents and string banners and the create the Tribute Wall and such. As we prepared for bed, I noticed Nuka, bathed and groomed a few days ago, was a bit streaky at the backside. I picked her up so Steve could do a bit of quick tidying and she screamed in pain. When I turned her over on her back both Steve and I gasped. It appeared that her private parts were in prolapse...and this had occured within the past few hours since we had brushed the WDA out after dinner.

I could not help be a bit angry at the Universe for the unfairness of Nuka's condition and found no humor in the irony of walking into the Emergency Hospital (a Major Sponsor of the Walk) to be surrounded by posters advertising our Walk to End Cancer, a huge photo of Abigail, our Canine Cancer Warrior of the Year and stacks of cards announcing our event.

The vet tech took our Nuka Angel Marie and headed into the back; the receptionist told us the doctor on duty had two patients and that he would then take a look at her. It seemed like forever and finally I asked the receptionist for a status report. She returned to say the doctor would be right out with Nuka and that there was no need for worry.

The vet, again a not funny twist of irony, turned out to be the ER Vet who was giving the presentation on First Aid for Your Dog at the Walk to End Cancer. He put Nuka back into my arms and handed Steve an antibiotic and a steroidal topical ointment. "She has vaginitis, a severe infection," he told us. "She may need a cone if she tries licking and should have lots of rest...no more walking than necessary because it hurts to do so and urinating is painful, too."

We walked into the house at nearly 2am and the entire WDA was on high alert. They all had to check out their sibling and then looked at me. "The White Dog Army will NOT be Walking as a whole today," I sadly told them. "Nuka needs to rest and to walk as little as possible." Immediately, Quinn asked permission to stay home to care for Another White Dog and keep her company. "She is always there for me, it is the least I can do," he volunteered. With regret WD granted permission.

"This is not a good omen," I muttered as we tried to grab a remaining hours of sleep. "Trust me, momma," White Dog said, "think of this as getting the surprises out of the way. Everything will be fine...and so will Nuka!"