Well, my big trop to Major Big City was unexpectedly cancelled...due to circumstances I was not aware of until 9 hours into yesterday's 10 hour trip. As soon as I got the relevant news (basically, the husbandry details of the animals I was supposed to be observing had been changed, and the new situation is such that it would not be able to provide valid data for my project). I did a U-turn right after that news and headed back home, ended up driving over sixteen hours yesterday and about three and a half today, tons of carbon and money literally burned on an absolutely pointless trip. Such is life.
But, the silver lining to that cloud is that I am back home a week earlier than expected, so I got to reclaim my beloved G. early. Yay for puppylove!
G. was abused in his former life, and as a result he has some anxiety issues. He has made vast improvements since I first got him, but he still doesn't handle separation from me very well. At all. I was so happy to pick him up today, but I was also shocked at how much weight he has lost. His ribs show, his stomach is shrunken in, his hips are way too pointy. I dropped off a healthy, robust animal, the vet always calls him the "perfect specimen," and they gave me back a saddenly skinnyass "specimen." Lovable as ever, of course, just with a few more corners and angles to him.
My reaction? A brainstorm of "undiet" strategies for him. Plans to buy all kinds of ultra-nutritious, calorie dense foods to seduce him into replacing those pounds. Hope that returning to our normal routine will give his nerves a break and let him resume his usual eating habits. Pad his kennel with two extra blankets so his bony elbows don't rub too much. Contemplate getting bloodwork and parasite tests done on him to make sure it isn't caused by a serious medical problem. Worry about whether he will feel too weak to go on our normal walks until I build him back up a little bit. Will people think he looks neglected? Just looking at him makes me feel as guilty as if it were indeed my fault.
It really makes me think about what my ED has done to my mom (and the rest of my family) over the years. I never intended to hurt anyone, but I know that there has been a lot of collateral damage nonetheless.
Why is it so easy to be logical about a damn dog, while I have so far proven to be chronically incapable of designing an appropriate eating strategy for myself, despite my status as an otherwise intelligent, functional adult human being? What kind of species produces individuals that can solve differential equations and invent space travel and yet fall to emotional pieces over regulating personal energy balance, one of the most fundamental requirements for organic life?
I'm digressing into rambles now, I don't have a nice neat wrap-up thought for this post, just the musings d'jour. That, and one last picture, this one from last summer, because I like showing him off:
3 comments:
Sorry about the trip cancellation but yeah you got to pick up G? Although I know you were not expecting what you saw which is quite saddening. Did the vet mention anything at all to you about his condition when you picked him up? I guess this is way worse than last year when he back back as a "creampuff." (I think those were your words)
I definitely understand you about how we can be more rational with our dogs than ourselves. But maybe too, this is part of their lesson to us? No?
The vet was at lunch when I picked him up, but before they brought him out I asked if he'd been eating ok and they said sure, no problems, sometimes he skipped a meal but nothing major...
Last summer he stayed at a house with four other dogs, I think that kept his spirits and appetite up. This time he was at a house for the first week but boarded for the last 3. The friend that kept him the first week came over for a while this evening and she was shocked at his appearance too, he must have just felt sorry for himself at the vet's office and gone on hunger strike there...he has eaten fine for me tonight, though, hopefully it won't take long to build him back up.
Cammy,
I totally hear you on the analogy between pets and eating disorders. When my cat stopped eating after I moved to Baltimore, I freaked the bleepity-bleep out.
What helps me to remember is that Aria didn't stop eating intentionally, and neither did you. And the important thing is to start taking care of yourself- just like you would want G to do.
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