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We've been watching my mother's elderly teacup poodle for the past few days. She's not as affectionate as her deceased sister, who thought I was the coolest person ever, but she comes by for a pet now and then, and after Roomie takes her out for her morning pee, she immediately returns to the house to look for me and make sure I'm where she left me.
The worst part of the job this time around is the fact that we have to administer an oral antibiotic via syringe every morning, and Her Highness does what anyone would when confronted with foul oral medicine and refuses to take it. She turns her head and snorts and wiggles and fixes us with a look of wounded incredulity while we cajole and croon and feel like the biggest assholes in the universe. Roomie always cuddles her and tells her he loves her before he wields the syringe, and it's sweet and awful and reminds me of the countless doctors who have poked and prodded and inflicted enormous pain "for my own good". It isn't much of a contest since she's so tiny, but that just makes us feel like even bigger dicks. We try to blunt the trauma by feeding her immediately afterward and sprinkling her wet food with bacon bits, but after the first dose yesterday, she whined whenever we reached for her collar to fasten her leash. It went much more smoothly this morning, and there was no shyness or whining later, but we'll both be glad when we don't have to traumatize a thirteen-year-old poodle in order to stave off a bladder infection.
( Thor--SPOILERS )
The worst part of the job this time around is the fact that we have to administer an oral antibiotic via syringe every morning, and Her Highness does what anyone would when confronted with foul oral medicine and refuses to take it. She turns her head and snorts and wiggles and fixes us with a look of wounded incredulity while we cajole and croon and feel like the biggest assholes in the universe. Roomie always cuddles her and tells her he loves her before he wields the syringe, and it's sweet and awful and reminds me of the countless doctors who have poked and prodded and inflicted enormous pain "for my own good". It isn't much of a contest since she's so tiny, but that just makes us feel like even bigger dicks. We try to blunt the trauma by feeding her immediately afterward and sprinkling her wet food with bacon bits, but after the first dose yesterday, she whined whenever we reached for her collar to fasten her leash. It went much more smoothly this morning, and there was no shyness or whining later, but we'll both be glad when we don't have to traumatize a thirteen-year-old poodle in order to stave off a bladder infection.
( Thor--SPOILERS )
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