I had to take Indiana Jones, mastiff extraordinaire, to the vet today. For reasons unknown, his leg was horribly swollen, and it was oozing fluid from a small wound. He made deep growling sounds when I touched it, though he let me clean it up and put medicine on it without putting up much of a fuss. Still, my poor doggy was in pain, so off to the vet we went.
After a short wait for the country doctor, we were told Indy had been bitten by a copperhead. Now, I saw no snake, and Indy never cried out or behaved the way one would expect a dog to act when bitten by a snake, yet the vet looked at the symptoms and was quite convinced. The choices were simple. Indy needed antibiotics for infection, and something for pain and swelling. Luckily, the wound was draining, or so said the vet.
Indy narrowed his eyes as the doc approached with a syringe filled with antibiotics, and the doc, smart man that he was, asked me if I would be able to stick the dog if he wasn't able to get close enough.
"Umm...yeah?" I agreed. But I didn't really want to handle the needle in this operation. Instead, I opted to hold the biting end of the dog while the doc stuck him in the butt. No one died during the procedure, and even after a nasty shot, Indy was more than willing to make friends with every dog in the waiting room on the way out.
Indy is expected to make a full recovery, though it will take a while for him to fully heal. All in all, it's been a horrible experience. As for me? I'm never going outside again. There are copperheads in them there woods! And my husb--I mean, the IDP---says I can't have a mongoose. Something about them being illegal in the US.
I say, damn the laws and get me Rikki Tikki Tavi...stat!
Until the next time...I'll be staying indoors.