Last weekend was the weekend we thought we might lose the baby. This weekend was the weekend we thought we might lose Ceiba's eyeballs.
Seriously, y'all, can we get a break over here?
When I came home on Friday I had Big Plans of Doing Nothing. We were going to order Indian food. We were going to sit on the couch. We were going to watch Band of Brothers for the hundredth time and I was possibly going to treat myself to a small glass of red wine, because SERIOUSLY.
But then I opened my front door and got beaned in the leg by my dog, who could not see a BLESSED THING, because both of her eyes were completely sealed shut by goop and pus and eyeball-crust nastiness.
And yet I was determined to save my Evening of Nothing. So I sacrificed one of our guest towels and washed her eyes out with some warm water. Within five minutes the pus reappeared, so I called the vet and tried to convince them to prescribe some antibiotic ointment to me OVER THE PHONE, because apparently I know ALL ABOUT THIS STUFF.
She just has a little eye infection! She had one as a puppy! You gave us medicine that came in a tube! We just need a refill on that tube! Don't question me, AM EXPERT ABOUT THE MEDICINE IN A TUBE.
When the vet refused to prescribe medicine over the phone, I went searching for the eye ointment we used before, because maybe we still had some and it could get her through the weekend yadda yadda Indian food couch sleep.
Finally, my cold dark heart melted and I called Jason and told him to meet me at the vet -- our little tiny girl needed medicine and I was taking her right over. (Our vet is also a 24-hour animal hospital that takes walk-ins on an emergency basis, but I hate doing the ER visits because they cost three times as much and you wait five times as long and there's always violent nature documentaries about cheetahs eating rabbits and baby seals or whatever on the lobby televisions.)
I was so confident in my diagnosis of a blocked tear duct or some other minor eye irritation that I completely missed it when the vet first started talking about ocular ulcers and puncture wounds and surface scratches and you negligent monster you.
"Your dog. Her eyes. Are injured. Badly."
"There's a deep cut on her right eye that's infected and her left eye shows evidence of an old corneal injury that didn't heal properly."
The vet was very matter-of-fact and totally not judgemental but OH MY GOD, I COULD FEEL THE JUDGING, as if I had taken my child to the doctor for a sore throat and was told that he actually had a broken leg. From six months ago, and were you ever going to notice this child has LEPROSY?
"It's a good thing you brought her in when you did, because if this had gone untreated much longer her eyeball would have ruptured."
Oh, EW. And also: BAD OWNERS, BAD!
So we were sent home with a tube of ointment (I KNEW IT), eye drops and a very small lampshade collar. We have to take her back today or tomorrow for another check-up.
I totally think I injured her eyes while cleaning them earlier this week. Jason worries he did it while bathing her last weekend. And man, do we both feel shitty about it.
The most likely suspect, however, appears to be completely guilt-free.
You look stupid, little lampshade dog! Share your kibble or I will bite your eyeballs out a second time!
She's doing much better now, and we got home in time for Indian food and one episode of Band of Brothers.