Tuesday afternoon was quite eventful.
Turns out, the story didn't end there. (Oh how I wish it had.)
I would have written about it last night, but I was too busy sleeping and then going to a basketball game and watching the most ill-behaved student section e.v.e.r, and then sleeping some more.
When we last left off, I had taken the dog to the vet, where she hadn't hacked at all, and then I explained to her that she was never to fake an illness again.
She decided to up the ante.
On the way home from the vet, we went through chick-fil-a, and came home. She happily shared my nuggets and fries, and we began to get ready for bed. At about 9pm I had a bite of cheese, and she didn't want a piece. That was my first clue that something was wrong. Then she began getting really listless.
When we got up into the bed, I noticed that her breathing was labored, almost choking, and she was shaking. I felt her belly and it was very hard. Thus began the real dilemma of the evening. Do I head to the emergency vet or do I deal with the possibility of waking up to a passed away pet?
I should also mention that I'd already put sponge curlers in my hair and was in no way appropriately-dressed for an evening out of the house, unless I wanted to be interviewed on the news talking about a tornado/UFO sighting, in which case I was quite appropriately-dressed.
I finally had to make a decision and that decision was that I did not want to have to be up all night with my potentially-dying dog, so I tossed the curlers and put on jeans and a tee. I alerted the Face-book that I was heading to the Vet ER (I was sure inquiring minds wanted to know), and headed out the door.
Luckily there's a new Vet ER right by my house so I didn't have to drive 20 miles on the interstate to get there. I went in and explained what her symptoms were. There was another lady there, and I came to discover that her dog had almost drowned and had to be resuscitated, so I felt kind of dumb answering that I was there because my dog was simply "acting weird".
Upon examination (at 11:30pm), it was determined that she was in pain because she had been coughing all day, and she was given painkillers and we were sent home. After paying a huge bill. For the second time in a day. Because she basically had a sore throat.
I explained to Daisy that she had met her out-of-pocket maximum, and when it came to be July and she was getting hot spots, she should look to this evening if she was wondering why I was not taking her to the vet.
Of course, at this point, I have in my possession some doggie cough pills, antibiotics with steroids, pain killers, special ear wash laced with antibiotics, and special doggie dental spray to prevent plaque. So she shouldn't need to go to the vet. Ever again.
(I also had a surprising reaction while all of this was going on, but that's a post for another day.)