Trump, Trudeau and Wynne? Forget about it. The first question I’m often asked, either by phone or in person isn’t about politics. It’s “how are the Rowdies?” The Rowdies are Rocky and Sunny. Bichon and Yorkshire Terrier. My buds.
I introduced the Rowdies to the pages of the Observer after the passing of my wife. The Rowdies had gone silent. Little interest in eating. Less in playing. Activities which had consumed their almost every waking moment.
Rocky and Sunny have duly earned their nickname. At a combined 22 pounds the Rowdies challenge anyone and his dog who crosses their path. Sunny has a vertical leap the envy of an NBA star and a pitched bark at a volume approaching a chainsaw ripping into a fired up jet engine. He employs both simultaneously. Rocky whose eyesight is no longer entirely reliable follows his littler pal’s wild yips with more big dog barking directed toward any available compass point.
Two weeks ago Sunny again went silent.
This time was different. He refused to eat, declined to leave the house and lay in his bed shaking. Clearly the boy wasn’t well. How unwell I found out when the veterinarian initially offered doggie meds which seemed to make the the situation worse. An X-Ray follow up and it was suggested strongly I deliver Sunny to an emergency animal hospital without delay. “He might not make it to the weekend.” It was Wednesday.
Panic? Something close. If a dog adds to your life enjoyment you understand. The Rowdies are my family. Sunny had been my wife’s shadow.
At the animal Emerg, they were expecting us. No long wait like would greet a human. Sunny was triaged and admitted within 20 minutes.
That night Rocky was restless. Where was his buddy? He whimpered and wandered about. The following morning I found all the dog toys in a pile at the front door with Rocky standing guard. “It’s OK buddy, Sunny will be back soon.” I wasn’t sure I believed that.
An ultrasound had revealed haemorrhagic gastroenteritis. The vet couldn’t be sure of the cause, but said Sunny had been very sick and by the time he was released to me several days later appeared to have lost half his 7 pound body weight and all of his bark. “We almost lost him” was the word from the medical technician.
Sunny needed meds for about 10 days and even now hasn’t returned entirely to form. I can’t be sure sure the little guy isn’t milking the situation, but that’s OK because losing him would have been awful.
The Rowdies are truly my best buddies. Compared to Sunny and Rocky, Trump, Trudeau and Wynne are annoying distractions.