My dog's still in the hospital. Still acting perkier and perkier. She even ate for me yesterday (but hadn't for them yet by this morning). Testing shows that her liver damage was unfortunately quite extensive, whatever it was that happened, and they're taking care of various things for her, with the aim now to get her stable enough that I can bring her home. Steroids now, plus some attending to fluid in her body cavity (probably from a vessel-leaking thing that human alcoholics get). How much life she has left in her, or will have if she gets to come home, I dunno; right now, however, there's definitely still life in her. It was so good to see her wagging her tail a little, and so hard that she has to stay there and is still sick and may never come home, or may come home and be sick and/or not last long at all. Whatever surviving and functioning cells there are in her liver that might recover & regenerate, it sure would be nice if they'll be enough to keep her going. Long and short of it, the strain and dire feeling of a sick pet is how it is for me now, and may be how it will be for a while. If she recovers enough and can stick around.
I found out by accident earlier today that some dear ones have started a go-fund-me type thing to help with the vet bills (which are crazy high, debtdebtdebtdebtdebt). A coworker I had just told about the situation a little earlier went to hand me some money "for my fund" and I was like "What?" and after a little back-and-forth it came out that there has been secret plotting going on on my behalf, outta sympathy for the doggie-dog and me. It's so touching it makes me wanna cry just thinking about it.
On my way home yesterday I stopped in an antique mall, mostly to try to get some exercise, walking around in there. (Used Meijer's's the same way when I was back in town.) Walking around among all the old things felt like being in a sort of cemetary of leftovers from the lives of dead people. I mean, a number of the booths were, like, mostly the Hot Wheels collection somebody is apparently trying to sell off, or even weird original art( Collapse )
, and there were lots of dog-related things I might not have noticed the extent of earlier( Collapse )
, but mostly it felt dusty and sad and evocative of hundreds of now-over lives, and I had a hard time remembering what it felt like to get a kick out of wandering among old stuff like that, as I know I usedta, maybe being struck by how my grandmother used to have a [kitchen thing] like that, or something along those lines.( Collapse )