What is the absolute worst thing that can happen when you’re pet sitting?

Exactly what did.

I had taken vacation today a few weeks ago for no reason other than the fact that I hadn’t taken any yet this year and I really needed a 3-day weekend with my state of mind where it is where it comes to work.   Still house and pet-sitting, I left a note for the gentleman, Eric, a co-worker of my friend’s who comes by each morning to do computer stuff before heading out to do landscaping.  We hadn’t seen each other before today since I’m usually up and out while he’s still in the basement where he lets himself in without even coming upstairs in case he bothered me.

Yesterday, knowing I had today off, I left him a note down here just saying hello and FYI, I’m off today and please don’t worry about disturbing me.   After a nice dinner party with friends, I headed to bed about 10:30 or 11 and had a very nice sleep.

Until I was awoken this morning by Eric yelling down the hall to me, saying he’s sorry to wake me, but Stella’s hurt.  Hurt real bad.

Stella is an outdoor dog: she has an electric collar and stays out all day, but I bring her in to sleep with me at night.  I had woken just an hour before and let her out as usual and just went back to sleep, so she hadn’t been out for long.   Eric was just leaving and heard a YELP! and saw Stella climbing out of the bushes carrying her paw up.  As soon as she stepped on it, blood just started squirting everywhere.

I threw on my glasses and sandals; we bandaged her paw as best we could with tissues and tape and got her into my car, laying down a bathroom rug he had had in his car so she wouldn’t bleed all over mine.  She was already bleeding through her makeshift bandage, though, and I high-tailed it over to Pets Are People, Too, after calling to let them know I was on my way.  I was pulling out when I remembered the electric collar — thank God I remembered! I stopped, took it off her, and was on my way again.

I have to say I’m not too impressed with these people.  I got there and struggled to get Stella out of my tiny little car. By this time she had bled all over it and left little bloody prints into the building and all over the lobby.  And, yet, the people behind the desk kept casually (sloooooowly) chatting with those in to board and groom their dogs.  I finally had to pretty much yell, “um, I think I have an emergency here, folks.”  Like they couldn’t see all the blood all over their lobby?!  Okay, sure, that poodle really needed a grooming, but come ON!

So they took her back while I waited anxiously and tried to fill out as much as I could about Stella.  How old? No idea. Spayed? Um, no idea. But can’t y’all tell? Zipcode where you’re staying? Are you kidding - I barely remember my own. We tried to look her up in the computer (since it was, afterall, the emergency number left by my friend) but couldn’t find her.  I got even more upset: why would my friend tell me to bring her here if they didn’t know her?  [Later, another person who actually knew how to use the computer found her know problem. Grrrrr.]

Anyway, so Stella went back to the doctor while I waited.  Finally they brought me in and said the wound was really pretty deep and she was going to require surgery.  I was almost in tears.  Then they brought out the estimate on the bill: $960.  Oh.My.God.

Of course, there was no question in my mind that it needed to be done.  But I really didn’t have $960 and my friends aren’t back for another week!  In my haste to get to the doctor, I’d left Julia’s instructions on contacts at home and, remembering her father’s name and number on there, I figured I could at the very least call him for help.   So I explained this to the People employees and they said OK, but I’d have to take Stella back with me — it was against their policy to leave a pet there.  Now, I WAS in tears.  I had to lug the poor puppy back home again to figure this out and bring her back AGAIN?  I understood their policy, but it still really really sucked.

They bandaged her up good and said it would be OK for about 4 hours tops and I had to sign a waver refusing treatment since I was taking her away.  I drove back home and got her back out of my little car, poor little thing hopping around.  Other than her paw, she did seem OK — tail wagging and all — but still.   So I get the numbers and call Julia’s father’s number, only to realize it’s her OWN cell number.  In her haste to write me instructions, she wrote her own down.  The only other number was the next door neighbor’s, so I called him and explained the situation. After a few, “oh wow’s” he said he’d make some calls and call me back.

In the meantime, I’m waiting and wondering what to do.  When Eric left earlier I told him I’d give him a call, thinking his number was written on my instruction sheet too since she had made mention of him coming by each morning.  Unfortunately, this was not the case.  As the waiting got excruciating (probably only 10 minutes, but seemed like hours), I decided on another approach.  I called mutual friends of both mine and Julia’s and left messages, thinking if nothing else, perhaps I can borrow some money from some friends and make up the rest myself.  I left messages.  And the wait was excruciating.

So then, finally ordering myself to calm down, I realized another approach had to be taken. I tried looking up her father in whitepages.com but there were way too many of him in the listings and I didn’t know what city he lived in.  It occurred to me that, owning his own business, Ted’s co-workers must have business cards or something to put this on if necessary, so I looked all over the office for co-workers numbers and things and couldn’t find them.

I got creative.  I called Ted’s cellphone/work phone, thinking one of them may be carrying it while he’s out of country.  The phone sitting next to me on the desk started ringing. Crap!  A moment’s pause….then thought: well, he must have their contacts IN the phone then, right?  I went to “Es” and found an Eric B.  I called it and it was a disconnected number. Crap again!  But there were other Es…but stuff like “E H” and “E Stokes” and “E S cell” — huuuuh? *sigh*….

I was bound and determined to figure this out though.  Poor puppy needed me to!  So I went back to the computer and started playing around.  Eric uses the computer every morning: there had to be some of his shit on here, right?  So I looked. Found an “Eric’s folder” — and found his resume inside!  So I called the number on it, but it was his last place of employment.  Crap crap! BUT!  Now I had his last name and it began with an H.  So I went back to the cell and called “E H.”

It was, indeed, him.  I explained everything and his reaction, extremely concerned – no problem, I have a card, I’ll be back over shortly — brought on just such a wave of relief I cannot even explain.   I quickly put in my contacts and changed out of my pajamas while waiting.  Then I noticed Stella was again bleeding through the bandage they had put on her and my anxiety came back tenfold.  Something was seriously seriously wrong here and I needed to get her back!

Thankfully, wherever he was working was not far away.  I waited outside with Stella, who moved away from me and my heart was broken.  I surveyed the front yard: blood EVERYWHERE.  Seriously, it looked like I got up and slaughtered my breakfast that morning.  And little red doggie prints everywhere, too.  I scrubbed what I could off the wood and hopefully the stains in the cement will fade in time.  :(

So Eric gets back and we go back up to the vet in his truck.  Thank God he was there to help carry Stella in - no way could I.  We brought back up all the paperwork, they explained everything, we had to sign waivers for anesthesia, all of that, and leave poor Stella there. By now, she was whimpering and didn’t want to stay, having already been there and knowing it wasn’t a fun place to be.  We had to carry her to the back and put her in this big crate where all these other little puppies were.  It was heartbreaking to leave her.

And, again, these folks moved like molasses.  And didn’t seem to really care about anyone’s distress. I guess they see it every day and all, but come on…it’s traumatic for someone to bring in a family member and wonder if it’s going to be okay.  In any case, we left with the assurance they’d call and the rest of the day was spent waiting for that call.
By 5pm, still with no call, I decided to call myself.  I got put on hold. For over 5 minutes! So I called back. And, again, 5 minute hold.  At this point, the absolute worst is going through my head: stories of pets who are brought in for dental work under anesthesia and die from it.  This wasn’t helped when someone finally got on the phone and said, “are you the pet sitter or the owner?”  I almost died, expecting them to tell me the worst.  I explained the owners are out of country and unreachable and she then told me that everything went OK.  It was only then that I finally relaxed.   I almost cried of relief.

It turns out Stella’s wound was pretty serious indeed. She not only cut two tendons but nipped an artery.  The doctor isn’t sure if there will be any permanent damage to the foot because of the artery cut, but that it was a small artery so he’s feeling pretty confident she’ll end up being OK.  She was just coming out of her sleep and whimpering a little, but doing just fine — I’m going to pick her up shortly after my friends Georgia and Jay come by to help (I can’t carry her; I’m hoping Jay will be able to).  She’s to get pain killers and antibiotics and I’ll need to bring her back in 4 days.  I updated Eric on everything (he was just as, if not more, concerned as I) and he explained if I couldn’t get off work to do that, he’d be happy to.   So it’s going to all be OK.   I’m sad: the poor doggie is probably now going to always remember me as the girl who hurt her paw and made her wear a bucket on her head for the next week. :(  But she’s going to be OK, and that’s all that matters.

Now if only I’d stop shaking too!  Right now, more than anything, I’m so thankful that we were here.  Stella is out ALL THE TIME.  She’s an outdoor dog with an electric collar - she’s out all day and only in the yard.  If I hadn’t seredipitously taken today off work or Eric come out just at that time, the poor thing probably would have bled to death today with her artery severed and all.   That thought is just so horrid I want to stop thinking about it, but can’t.  I just thank God it’s all going to be OK.

And, phew! After pup is safely home and asleep (and I’m staying in tonight to make sure nothing goes bad with her medicine or whatever), I’m going to have my own medicine via a glass from one of the bottles of wine that were leftover from the party last night.  

Oy. *sigh*….all’s well that end’s well, I reckon, but gosh.  I never ever want to go through this again.