Sometime in the last week or two, Mike and I noticed that Rigby was asking to be let out more often than usual to use the bathroom. We started paying closer attention and realized that she was peeing out small amounts. This raised a bunch of red flags for us because this is exactly how she acted when she had bladder stones three years ago. We decided to get her checked out before things got worse – like, before she started peeing on me, furniture, etc.
Mike took Rigby to the vet yesterday and I stayed home with Annie, even though she BEGGED to go along. I explained to her that doggie doctor’s offices aren’t loads of fun like Dr. Looove’s office – there are no stickers and lollipops. Mike sent us pictures to help placate Annie.
Because she’d had a (bazillion dollar) vet check-up at the end of last year, we had a normal baseline for her blood and urine…levels? I dunno. This was good because, of course, the vet wanted to do urine analysis and take an x-ray to look for the presence of stones. I told Annie that Rigby had to get a picture taken of her insides and she told me to have Mike tell Rigby, “Be brave, Rigby! It doesn’t hurt!”
Luckily the x-ray came back clean and her urine didn’t show any sign of crystals or stones. YAY. I’m so glad she doesn’t need another surgery, not only for her but also for my wallet. My medical bills are through the roof and I didn’t want to have to figure out how to pay for a dog surgery on top of them! We would have made it work but still – yay.
Unfortunately, my sweet pup does have a bladder infection, so she has to take a pill twice a day for a week. Mike said he joked that he’d stuff the pills into treats, and the doctor gave him a lecture. I guess that while the treats we’ve occasionally given Rigby are fine under normal circumstances, for a dog like Rigby with a history of bladder stones any food other than her prescription can throw off her pH balance and cause problems. So now we get the fun task of shoving a pill down a dog’s throat without the benefit of a treat or anything. FUN.
All joking aside, I’m so glad my doggy doesn’t need surgery. Her recovery was hard last time and I can’t imagine her having to go through it again, older and with an overzealous Annabel around wanting to “help.” I’m happy she’s back to being curled up on what’s left of my lap, defending me and The Acrobat from any perceived harm.