It was the most beautiful little bird I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen a juvenile owl before, and certainly not up close. It was moving, but it was pretty feeble, and the fact that one pupil was dilated and the other wasn’t a good sign, along with the fact that its head was cocked to one side. We put it in the carrier and put the carrier in the back of the car and headed off to the groomer to pick up the dog – and I’m going to call him “Buddy” from here on out, because it seems weird to keep calling him “the dog.”
We fully expected that the owl would be dead before we got home, but when we got to the groomer we checked on it, and it was still breathing.
Buddy was definitely cleaner, and his nails looked a thousand times better, and he had a jaunty little bandanna tied around his neck.
“I’m sorry they did that to you,” I whispered to Buddy as we put him in the car. “I didn’t tell them to bandanna you up, I promise!”
We stopped to pick up some takeout barbecue on the way home, and while Fred was inside the restaurant, Buddy tried to climb into the front seat, though he backed off when I told him no. He seemed a little agitated, and when Fred came back to the car, I suggested that he take the dog out to pee. The dog peed (but didn’t poop, for which we were grateful, because neither of us was looking forward to the idea of having to pick it up) and then happily climbed back into the car, sniffed around, and then curled up and went to sleep ’til we got home.
To our surprise, the owl was still alive when we got home. We got everything inside, put the dog in the bathroom with food, and put the carrier with the owl in it in my bedroom closet and shut the door. We figured being warm and in the dark would be better for the owl than being in a brightly-lit area with cats peering at it constantly.
We ate dinner, then let the dog out to explore the house. He walked around, sniffing everything, and freaking the cats out. He got too close to Mister Boogers (he wasn’t sniffing Mister Boogers, just happened to be in the general vicinity), who responded by hissing and boxing Buddy’s ears. Buddy responded by going immediately flat and riding it out. I yelled at Mister Boogers, who gave me a look
and then ran off. A little while later, Maxi decided that Buddy needed a good smacking, and went after him. He rode that out, but it startled me, and I yelled at Maxi, who ran off.
In and amongst all the excitement, Fred talked to a local wildlife rehabber, told her what was up with the owl, and made plans to meet up with her as soon as possible. We figured if the owl could be saved, she’d know it, and if it couldn’t, she would have a way to put it down humanely.
I was in the middle of kitty Snackin’ Time (after the smacking from Maxu, Buddy had decided it was time for a nap, went upstairs, and got on his bed, so we shut the door so no cats would harass him) when the rehabber called to let us know she was on her way. I finished giving the cats their snacks, and we headed to meet her. She looked the owl over and said that in her opinion, it wouldn’t recover and she would put it down.
We talked to her for a few more minutes (she told us how she’d one rehabbed a hawk, and I could see the jealousy rising from Fred’s brain like a cloud of smoke) and then went home.
Once home, we settled down to watch TV, and I started feeling horrible. It appears that something I’d eaten – I suspect the coleslaw, since it has sugar in it, but it could have been the potato salad – was disagreeing with me, in a big way. For the next hour I proceeded to dump (note for the uninformed: this explains what dumping is). It was the worst case of dumping I’ve ever had – I was gagging and retching about every five minutes, but after the first time there was just nothing in my stomach to throw up. You know when you’re nauseous and you know nothing will make you feel better than to throw up? That’s how I felt, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Finally, in desperation, I started looking through the bottles of prescription medication and then I found a bottle of phenergan. I wasn’t sure if I should take one, I dithered about it, we went out for a walk around the back forty, but not much past the back yard the nausea ramped up and so we came back into the house so I could kneel over the toilet for a while longer. Finally, I Googled “RNY phenergan”, found that it was okay to take, and took one.
Ten minutes later, the nausea was gone. We went to bed and talked, and by the time twenty minutes since I’d taken the pill had passed, I was starting to feel high, so Fred kissed me and went to bed.
I ended up sleeping in ’til almost 9, and I feel kind of fuzzy-headed, but fine. I look like I got hit by a mack truck, though. Thanks to all the hanging over the toilet and retching and gagging, a shitload of blood vessels in and around my eyes burst (it’ll go away in a few days).
The bruise kind of adds to the overall effect, no?
Today, Buddy is even more interested in the world around him. Fred’s taken him for a couple of walks around the back forty, and he’s peeing and pooping like nobody’s business (the dog, too. Har har!). Fred gave him deworming medication last night, and this morning his poop was loaded with dead hookworms (Fred reported this to me – I didn’t see it myself, and I’m happy about that). Monday morning I’m going to call and make an appointment with a vet – hopefully the good one I take Miz Poo to, but at this point I really just want him to be seen, checked over for heart worm and tapeworms, and to get all his shots.
At this point, no one with a couple hour drive has said that they want the dog. If no one does in the next few days, it looks like he’ll be going to a guy in Wisconsin who really, really wants him. People on the message board where Fred hangs out have stepped forward to help in getting him to Wisconsin – we just need someone who can drive from either Bowling Green, KY to Indianapolis OR from Clarksville, TN into Southern/ Middle Illinois. If anyone out there is interested in making the drive, let us know. We’re hoping to make that happen next weekend.
Of course, if anyone around here wants him, let me know.
Honestly, between the dog and the owl, I feel like we’re being asked to pay, bigtime, into the karma bank because we’re going to be required to make a large withdrawal at some point in the future. I hope I’m wrong about that!
Previously 2007: Are ya feelin’ bubbly, punk? Well? Are ya? 2006: I think it would be hilarious if someone started manufacturing imitation Maui Jim sunglasses and called them “Oahu James” sunglasses. 2005: I figure they’re professionals and know what they’re doing, so I have no desire to clutter up the small amount of space left in my brain with that kind of information. 2004: I sense that there is a battle of epic proportions in my future, a show-down between Miz Poo and I as to just WHO the blanket belongs to. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: But don’t tell Miz Poo I’m admiring another cat, please… 2000: It’s a conspiracy!]]>