The Life Of My Love, My Dog/Update
Donation protected
Update:
Ferrell still needs medical care, and here is another plea for the life of my love, my dog.
My dog had a seizure, and his heart stopped for a couple of seconds. It happened, tonight, as we were preparing to leave the Kingston Emergency Animal Hospital in sorta upstate New York. Underneath the chair, under my feet, Ferrell, my half chihuahua, half rat terrier, half something else rescue collapsed by my sneakers. My guy's face was all tensed and lock jawed. The receptionist was the first to see this. I looked down in shock. She ran to get the doctor.
After Ferrell was stabilized, I had to leave him there overnight to make sure nothing else would happen. It was hard. Ferrell yipped and yapped. Through his cage, I told him, "I love you. I'll be back in the morning." I left my well worn black scarf there for Ferrell to sniff, rip and, hopefully, cuddle up to. I, also, left my heart in that little cage. In the over six years that he's been with me, the four legged boy I've grown to call my boyfriend has never left my side for a single night.
Ferrell has not been well for a month now. He had been treated for Addison's for a year and a half. After being symptomatically diagnosed with the disease, my baby was pumped up with steroids to keep him ok. With all the sudden vomiting up of the excessive amounts of water consumed, the loss of appetite and the usual inability to get medicine in him, he has lost almost a third of his weight. I've lost count the amount of times we've been to the vet's. Now it could be Cushing's disease, it could be anything else.
Earlier today, Ferrell climbed up on top of the bed, rolled to his side and let out spine cruddling howls. Then he relaxed. A half hour later, Ferrell jumped down twice within minutes of each other from a foot stool. I only knew about this because I heard the loud thumps. I turned around each time to see Ferrell lying on his side with a strange look on his face. I had a cat once who had a stroke. This did not look like it. The second time I had to pick Ferrell up. It was at that point that I decided to take him to doggie ER. His regular vet didn't think there would be any problems today. But who could've expected this. My car in the shop. I called a cab.
We got to the ER. Shown to a room. The doctor examined Ferrell, he lost some of the weight he had gained back. Steroids or not was the question. Steroids meant possible further damage to his liver. Not meant he might not last til Tuesday when his regular vet wanted to do a test to see if he really has Addison's disease. I opted for steroids, along with two medications for nausea, along with an antibiotic for his teeth, along with fluids. We noted that Ferrell looked a little more uncomfortable than usual when the syringes hit his thinning body.
Sitting in the lobby, waiting for a ride home, I took note that Ferrell had regained his appetite. He was eating tissues out of the garbage. This was after a day of refusing turkey, chicken, roast beef, yucky liverwurst, whipped cream, cheese and, oh yeah, wet dog food. He had two pieces of doggie treats. That was it. I took the garbage away. The receptionist brought out some dog food that he devoured. Then Ferrell went for a walk around the waiting room. And then, Ferrell sat down underneath me, and then...
I have two other dogs at home, Happy and Fenway. I still mourn for my Milo, who died two years ago. And there have been an assortment of cats, gerbils, a ferret, a hamster, mice, tons of fish and, yes, other dogs. But this guy, Ferrell, has really got my heart tugged and tangled. And I believe it's because how our relationship started back in 2007 in a Lower East Side tenement apartment.
I was a lost and bitter, scared and shell shocked angry divorced mother living in the Hudson Valley. I lost all my money and my health to two different men, each I believed would be my answer to my belief in a knight in shining armor who could give me what I so desperately wanted, love and a second baby. My teenage son had just moved to hipster heaven in lower Manhattan because he had to, really had to. But that is another story. Back to me and the introduction of a wonderful man, Ferrell.
Ferrell came into my life because my son and his friend, they called themselves Dudes For Life, saw this teeny tiny underfed dog wandering Coney Island Beach. His friend said, "Want a dog?" After two hours, they caught him and named him Feral. I didn't make the connection of a feral and a stray, so I called him Ferrell after one of my son's favorite actors, Will Ferrell. And this poor little abused and abandoned dog became the darling of Ludlow Street, and Max Fish.
My son was reluctant to tell me about him because I already had three dogs. Around Mother's Day, he admitted it. In my kid's fourth floor walk up apartment, I met Ferrell. He was hiding under a bunk bed ready to come out at a moments notice to defend his life against big bad me. I was upset, confused because I'd never met a dog that would react like that to me. The Jewish mother I am, through the weeks, I bribed him with food. Ferrell came around.
At a Hudson Valley Metro North Station, my son put Ferrell down on the ground. He ran to me. That moment of seeing Ferrell run through the wind into my arms, officially, began my love affair with that little boy. When I left the Hudson Valley for New York City, I had a great sense of relief. I was going home, where everything was familiar. The street signs. The tall buildings. People's honesty. No one stabbed ya in the back, they went straight for your chest. You knew where you stood.
And Ferrell made me work for that standing. I moved into my son's apartment. He moved into another place, nearby. No dogs allowed. I had two tiny rooms. Ferrell slept alone at night. During the day he hid in my coat. It was cold outside. When I was evicted from the apartment that was not really mine, Ferrell ran from the kids he adored, my son and his friend, to me. I had the boyfriend I always desired. Someone who wanted my hugs as much as a I craved his kisses.
To be continued:
Btw, it's now 10:35 PM. Ferrell is now resting comfortably at the doggie ER. PPP. It seems his calcium and potassium levels were very low, and may have been causing the seizures? PPP.
Please help Ferrell. Please help me raise the money needed to give this little guy the life he deserves. The medical bills:
Thank you.
Ferrell still needs medical care, and here is another plea for the life of my love, my dog.
My dog had a seizure, and his heart stopped for a couple of seconds. It happened, tonight, as we were preparing to leave the Kingston Emergency Animal Hospital in sorta upstate New York. Underneath the chair, under my feet, Ferrell, my half chihuahua, half rat terrier, half something else rescue collapsed by my sneakers. My guy's face was all tensed and lock jawed. The receptionist was the first to see this. I looked down in shock. She ran to get the doctor.
After Ferrell was stabilized, I had to leave him there overnight to make sure nothing else would happen. It was hard. Ferrell yipped and yapped. Through his cage, I told him, "I love you. I'll be back in the morning." I left my well worn black scarf there for Ferrell to sniff, rip and, hopefully, cuddle up to. I, also, left my heart in that little cage. In the over six years that he's been with me, the four legged boy I've grown to call my boyfriend has never left my side for a single night.
Ferrell has not been well for a month now. He had been treated for Addison's for a year and a half. After being symptomatically diagnosed with the disease, my baby was pumped up with steroids to keep him ok. With all the sudden vomiting up of the excessive amounts of water consumed, the loss of appetite and the usual inability to get medicine in him, he has lost almost a third of his weight. I've lost count the amount of times we've been to the vet's. Now it could be Cushing's disease, it could be anything else.
Earlier today, Ferrell climbed up on top of the bed, rolled to his side and let out spine cruddling howls. Then he relaxed. A half hour later, Ferrell jumped down twice within minutes of each other from a foot stool. I only knew about this because I heard the loud thumps. I turned around each time to see Ferrell lying on his side with a strange look on his face. I had a cat once who had a stroke. This did not look like it. The second time I had to pick Ferrell up. It was at that point that I decided to take him to doggie ER. His regular vet didn't think there would be any problems today. But who could've expected this. My car in the shop. I called a cab.
We got to the ER. Shown to a room. The doctor examined Ferrell, he lost some of the weight he had gained back. Steroids or not was the question. Steroids meant possible further damage to his liver. Not meant he might not last til Tuesday when his regular vet wanted to do a test to see if he really has Addison's disease. I opted for steroids, along with two medications for nausea, along with an antibiotic for his teeth, along with fluids. We noted that Ferrell looked a little more uncomfortable than usual when the syringes hit his thinning body.
Sitting in the lobby, waiting for a ride home, I took note that Ferrell had regained his appetite. He was eating tissues out of the garbage. This was after a day of refusing turkey, chicken, roast beef, yucky liverwurst, whipped cream, cheese and, oh yeah, wet dog food. He had two pieces of doggie treats. That was it. I took the garbage away. The receptionist brought out some dog food that he devoured. Then Ferrell went for a walk around the waiting room. And then, Ferrell sat down underneath me, and then...
I have two other dogs at home, Happy and Fenway. I still mourn for my Milo, who died two years ago. And there have been an assortment of cats, gerbils, a ferret, a hamster, mice, tons of fish and, yes, other dogs. But this guy, Ferrell, has really got my heart tugged and tangled. And I believe it's because how our relationship started back in 2007 in a Lower East Side tenement apartment.
I was a lost and bitter, scared and shell shocked angry divorced mother living in the Hudson Valley. I lost all my money and my health to two different men, each I believed would be my answer to my belief in a knight in shining armor who could give me what I so desperately wanted, love and a second baby. My teenage son had just moved to hipster heaven in lower Manhattan because he had to, really had to. But that is another story. Back to me and the introduction of a wonderful man, Ferrell.
Ferrell came into my life because my son and his friend, they called themselves Dudes For Life, saw this teeny tiny underfed dog wandering Coney Island Beach. His friend said, "Want a dog?" After two hours, they caught him and named him Feral. I didn't make the connection of a feral and a stray, so I called him Ferrell after one of my son's favorite actors, Will Ferrell. And this poor little abused and abandoned dog became the darling of Ludlow Street, and Max Fish.
My son was reluctant to tell me about him because I already had three dogs. Around Mother's Day, he admitted it. In my kid's fourth floor walk up apartment, I met Ferrell. He was hiding under a bunk bed ready to come out at a moments notice to defend his life against big bad me. I was upset, confused because I'd never met a dog that would react like that to me. The Jewish mother I am, through the weeks, I bribed him with food. Ferrell came around.
At a Hudson Valley Metro North Station, my son put Ferrell down on the ground. He ran to me. That moment of seeing Ferrell run through the wind into my arms, officially, began my love affair with that little boy. When I left the Hudson Valley for New York City, I had a great sense of relief. I was going home, where everything was familiar. The street signs. The tall buildings. People's honesty. No one stabbed ya in the back, they went straight for your chest. You knew where you stood.
And Ferrell made me work for that standing. I moved into my son's apartment. He moved into another place, nearby. No dogs allowed. I had two tiny rooms. Ferrell slept alone at night. During the day he hid in my coat. It was cold outside. When I was evicted from the apartment that was not really mine, Ferrell ran from the kids he adored, my son and his friend, to me. I had the boyfriend I always desired. Someone who wanted my hugs as much as a I craved his kisses.
To be continued:
Btw, it's now 10:35 PM. Ferrell is now resting comfortably at the doggie ER. PPP. It seems his calcium and potassium levels were very low, and may have been causing the seizures? PPP.
Please help Ferrell. Please help me raise the money needed to give this little guy the life he deserves. The medical bills:
Thank you.
Organizer
Bonnie Bernstein
Organizer
Woodstock, NY
