Once I woke up, I headed upstairs because my mother needed me. She asked me to run off a picture of Barney for my baby cousin Jackson's first birthday cake, so I headed downstairs again and played around with my dad's computer until I got the image size and printer ink cartridge selection right. I ran the picture off and gave it to her, and after that, spent some time on Facebook. You need to shower and get ready for Dalton's party soon, I told myself. However, my motivation said differently. Two hours later, my mom was in the shower, and I told her that I would get in after her. So when she got out, she told me to get in. "I will soon," I told her, still not motivated enough to move. She then told me that her and my bro, Michael, were going to go get a cake pan and that they would be back soon. I said okay, and ten minutes later, I finally decided to get up and shower. I headed back to my room to get some clothes out of my closet and saw that my guinea pig, Pogo, was sitting outside his house. "Hi Pogo!" I said to him, crossing over to get to the closet door. I stepped inside and waited to hear Pogo move, but all was silent. That's strange. It's not like him to not follow me, I thought. I stepped out of my closet and walked over to the front of his cage. "Pogo!" I said, but he didn't move. He just sat and squeaked quietly. "What's wrong, buddy?" I asked him, opening his cage door. I waited for a few seconds to see if he would get up and walk over to me, but he made no move to tell me that he wanted attention. I reached my hands in and simply lifted him out of his cage, and he didn't even try to fight me. He flat out didn't care. Something is wrong, I thought. I held him close to me, walked into my parents' room, laid on their bed, and just held him for a good 15 minutes. He was very still in my arms, not wanting up on my shoulder at all.
Overcome by emotion, I began to cry. What was going on? Was he dying? Was he extremely sick? Should I even be concerned? I lifted my hand to wipe the tears away, and Pogo lifted his head to sniff my fingers. He looked at me as I wiped my cheeks and then put his head back down. I repeated this three times, Pogo lifting his head up each time to see if I was okay. After I got over my crying fit, I took him back into my room and set him in his cage. It was then that things got worse. He started arching his back and squealing in pain, and I immediately reached my hands back into his cage and tried to grab him, but he tried to run away. I got a hold of him seconds later and took him out, asking him what was wrong. I took him out to the family room and told my dad that I thought something was wrong with Pogo. He asked why, and as I sat in the recliner to tell him, I lifted Pogo up and felt something hit my knee. I looked down to see a single drop of blood, and looked at his private area to see blood coming out. "He's bleeding!" I told my dad, voice beginning to shake. "Where at?" My dad asked. I tried to tell him where, but my brain was so scattered from panic that I said, "Where he pees!" My dad went and grabbed an old towel and we wrapped him in it, and then I said, "We have to call the vet!"
"There's no time for that," My dad replied. "Go change your clothes."
I handed Pogo over and went to throw on a longer pair of shorts and a T-Shirt, and then we got into the car and drove to the vet. Once we got there, my heart dropped into my stomach. The vet office was closed.
I cussed in my head as my panic level rose even higher. My eyes welled up with tears and I said, "It's closed. The vet is closed. What are we going to do, Dad?" Pogo, who had been sitting still in my arms, began squeaking, as if he, too, knew the office was closed. His heart must have sunk like mine did. We were too in-sync with each other to not know what the other was feeling. I watched as my dad pulled his cellphone out, getting on the internet. What the fuck is he doing? I thought.
"Dad, what are you doing?"
"I'm looking up their number, Steph!"
What good is that going to do? I thought. "Dad, no one is going to be there! They're closed!" My dad was silent as he continued to Google for a number, and Pogo began to arch his back again, tensing up and squealing in pain. "Oh! Pogo!" I said, growing even more concerned now. "He's in pain!" My dad was silent as he continued to look for a number, and I thought to myself, each second you're on your phone, Pogo could be closer to dying! I looked down at the small animal resting in my arms and watched his eyes to make sure they didn't close. The last thing I wanted was for him to die in my arms. My dad finally found the number and called it, but what he thought was All Creatures Animal Hospital was Animal Cloud, which was right down the road from where we were at. The girl who answered asked if we were at All Creatures, and my dad said yes. She then asked if it was an emergency, and he said yes, that Pogo was bleeding from his private area. She put us on hold and returned a few minutes later, telling us that there was no one there who specialized with guinea pigs, but that we could bring him in and they would do their best. She then told us that if they couldn't do anything, we could go to the animal hospital. My dad told her, "Well it seems kind of pointless to bring him into you guys if you can't do anything. I think we'll just take him to the animal hospital." The girl then gave us their number, and my dad called them and told them what was going on. They told us that they were off of Veterans Memorial in the same strip as JJ's Restaurant, and after my dad hung up, I told him to call home and see if mom was there yet. So he called her and she answered. He asked where the animal hospital was, and she said she had no idea, so I asked her where JJ's was as best I could, but my voice shook terribly. She told us how to get there and then asked what was wrong. At that point, my voice was too shaky for me to talk, and my dad told her what was going on. She asked if I wanted her to meet us up there, and I choked out a yes. After we hung up, we pulled into the strip where the hospital was and went inside. They asked what was wrong, and I told them that I thought he was bleeding. I pulled the towel away to check and saw that blood was everywhere. "I don't know what's going on," I told her, voice cracking. She took Pogo right away, and I sat down and began to cry, not knowing what else to do.
My mother and brother came minutes after they took Pogo, and as I told my mom what happened, I began to get teary-eyed again. My mom said that they may tell us to put him to sleep, and then she began getting tears in her eyes as well. Imagining my little guinea pig dying was unbearable to me, especially in the condition that he was in. Pogo was my life ever since my sophomore year. He was always excited to see me no matter what day or time it was and no matter how long I had gone without seeing him. He was the one I enjoyed holding when I, myself, was feeling neglected, and to have such a loving little creature gone would have torn my heart in two.
One of the nurses finally brought Pogo back and gave him to me, telling us that the doctor would see us shortly. I held him in my arms again, his little body tired and limp. His paw hung out the side, which he never does, and he looked absolutely worn out. We waited for what felt like hours, but in reality, it was probably only ten minutes. The nurse called us back to one of the examination rooms, and we went back and waited for the doctor to come in. It was freezing back there, and the first thing I saw was a long metal table with a small, square pillow that had dog prints on it. I held Pogo, not wanting to put him on the cold table or the pillow, and compared to the temperature of the room, it felt like he was burning up. My whole body was freezing except for the spot on my arm he was laying on, and I could only imagine how cold the metal table must be. It didn't take long before the doctor walked through the door, and she asked me what had happened. Again, I told the story with a shaky voice, and she told us that most guinea pig emergencies are bladder related, and usually about bladder stones. She said that when he was back in the room, she was able to get a temperature from him, which is difficult to do with guinea pigs because they fuss and it stresses them out. But she told us that he was so out of it that she was able to take it, and he didn't have a fever. She then picked Pogo up and felt his bladder, saying that she didn't feel any stones. She also told us that she was worried about him since he had bled so much on the towel and said she wished she could get a urine sample. She predicted that he did have a kidney stone, but she couldn't be sure unless they did an x-ray, which would cost us $200. So she told us she would inject some fluids in the back of his neck to give him a camel hump since he was extremely dehydrated, and she would also give us an antibiotic until we could get him to a vet on Monday where an x-ray would be cheaper. She took him back again and gave him his fluids, and during that time, my dad told us he was going to head home since Pogo was going to be out soon, so he left. The doctor brought Pogo back after ten minutes and said she would go get the antibiotic and our paper work. She left the room, and about thirty seconds later, Pogo began to arch his back and squeal again, so we called her back and a nurse took him into the doctors room again. After a good half hour of waiting, the nurse came in with him and said that they did get a urine sample and that they were testing it. She placed Pogo on the pillow and left, and we watched him walk around the rim of it, testing the cushy fabric.
After around fifteen minutes, Pogo began to arch his back again, and the doctor walked in. We told her he was doing it again, and she said guinea pigs usually do that when they have a bladder stone they're trying to pass. Then she told us that he had a bladder infection and that they were going to do a $50 x-ray just to be sure everything else was okay. They took him away once again, and as we waited, my brother and I began to toss a tissue box back and forth to each other. We put it away after ten minutes and began tossing my mom's keys. When we got bored with that, my mom, bro, and I took coins out of my mom's wallet and began spinning them on the table. We were that bored. After an hour or so, the doctor came in with a laptop and showed us that Pogo did in fact have a bladder stone stuck in his urethra. He was trying to pee around it, and the only reason he was being successful was because it was irregular shaped and looked like a star, and she said that they put a catheter in to try to push the stone back into the bladder since it was too big to pass. We then asked the nurse if we could take my brother out for dinner since it was his birthday, and she said yes since it would be awhile to make Pogo better.
We went home and I finally got my shower, and then we stopped by Dalton's house so I could give him a picture I drew for him a while back. I walked in and hugged him and gave him his picture. Then I told him Pogo had a bladder stone. He looked just as shocked as I had been when I found out, and he said, "Isn't it your brother's birthday?" with a humored look on his face. I said yes and told him that the doctor asked if he wanted a copy of the x-ray for a birthday present. Dalton started laughing and then asked if I was going to stay for awhile. I told him that we were on our way to dinner, and he sarcastically said, "Fine. I see how it is." I told him that I really wished I could stay, and he said he understood and told me to sign his book that he had sitting out. So I wrote him a message in there and hugged him goodbye. I felt bad not being able to stay longer and was disappointed that I couldn't, but there really wasn't another option for me. So I got back in the van and we headed to Applebees for dinner. Afterward, we headed out to the hospital again (this was a good two hours later) and they said they were still working on Pogo and that they would call us when he was ready to come home. No sooner did we get home, the doctor called and told me he was ready. So my mom, bro, and I got back in the van and went up to the hospital to get him. The doctor got our paper work, medicine, and a disc with Pogo's x-rays on it so that we could take it to All Creatures on Monday, and she said that they would probably change his diet first to try and dissolve the stone. If that didn't work, they would surgically remove it. I was given Pogo once more, and this time, he was fighting to get out of the doctor's arms and into mine. We were told to keep a close eye on him until Monday and that we could bring him back if anything happened before we could get him to his regular doctor. So we took him home and got him to eat some lettuce and carrots, and we also gave him some medicine. He was pooped out, and I cleaned his cage and moved it out to the family room so that we could keep a close eye on him for the next couple days. I put him in his cage and he licked my finger to thank him for making him feel better, and then he went in his house to chill out for the rest of the night.
Most people would say it's silly to pay around $200 for a guinea pig since it's so small and only lives for 4-6 years. But people who think it's silly to spend that much on a creature like Pogo obviously doesn't understand how much he means to our family. If I tried to explain to you all how much I love him and how strong of a bond we have, animal to human, I would not be able to put it into words or buy a big enough canvas to paint my feelings on. Dog owners, cat owners, my bond with this tiny animal is just as strong as your bond with your bigger animal, and although you may say a cat and/or dog has a longer life span, you cannot put a price on love. When you love someone, whether it be a human or animal, money is not something you think twice about. You can't just watch an animal you love cry out in pain and continue to watch them until they die. You're going to do something about it. I did something about it because I love Pogo with all my heart, and although I'll have to face his death someday, I'm not yet ready to let him go. Money doesn't decide whether I love him or not, and it never should.
Pogo is not eating or drinking as of right now. I keep force-watering him through a syringe, and he's been taking it well. He sees a vet tomorrow, and hopefully he'll be back to normal soon.
I love you, Pogo.
No comments:
Post a Comment