Whew, what a night. Not a good night. Not a fun night. A nasty, long, expensive, boner-filled, screaming, crying kind of night.
At around 11 p.m. last night, Roy got a boner. This boner was different. It didn't go away. I waited and waited. "Think baseball, Roy. Think Margaret Thatcher..." Nope, nothing. He was in pain and completely freaked out. After about an hour I called the emergency vet clinic. They gave me some suggestions. A cold compress. Sugar water on the, er, affected area. Distraction in the form of a car ride. And I even reluctantly tried the final option. I put on a latex glove slathered on some Vaseline and tried to put the urethral bulb back into the preputial sheath. I know, this is gross, but what choice did I have? An expensive trip to the emergency clinic? If I just left it, it could damage the tissue even more and result in amputation. Regardless, nothing worked and I brought Roy into the vet at 1 a.m. First the Doc tried exactly what I did to no avail. Then she knocked Roy out and tried again. More drugs, more pushing, pulling, boner jokes, etc. An hour and a half later, Roy was at the maximum dose of knockout drugs and still had a raging hard-on. They had to pull out the scalpel. The doctor, between penis jokes, cut the prepuce to get the penis back in. She stitched it up and then added a couple more stitches so that Roy will never get another boner again.
Needless to say, Roy is not a happy camper today. Neither am I. I hate seeing my precious boy suffer. Also, the whole fiasco cost over $300. For a boner!
Roy is sporting a stiff (har har) and very uncomfortable collar that prevents him from getting to his wounds. He's on antibiotics still and now pain killers and, starting tonight, tranquilizers.
I have to say that now, I've seen everything. And still nothing fazes me. That's the joy of dog mushing, people. You see things that will haunt you forever and you deal with it. If I hear one more boner joke I'm going to set someone on fire, I swear, so don't do it!
And let this be a lesson to all you horny boys out there. Keep it in your pants! For the love of all that is holy, keep it in your pants.
Peace.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
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5 comments:
Poor guy, I hope he's feeling better soon!
This happened to our little sprint husky when we lived up in Nome. It was awful for our poor dog, but it finally went away without medical help.
Poor little Roy Rogers.....
No more Happy Trails to you!
See you in a week Jill & Sam!
What a laugh I had! This is the first time I viewed your blog and not knowing anything about it, I started reading the post thinking Roy was your husband/boyfriend. At first I thought it was odd that you were taking different approaches instead of solving it the old fashioned way, then I realized it was one of your dogs.
Thanks for the laugh and I'll be checking your blog regularly.
Our dog Blue had the same problem last summer. On a weekend, so it was up to the after-hours clinic to fix. Poor guy.
If that's what you do to randy males around your cabin, then I'm never visiting!
Are you sure he's not french? As in Napoleon BONEaparte! :) Couldn't resist, mate.
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