Sherman's enlarged heart isn't news to us--both medically and metaphorically--but his future is more secure thanks in no small part to this blog, of all things. As you may know, my dog's been on a hunger strike. Dissatisfied with my vet's prognosis, I called my new friend, animal writer Carol Frischman, whose parrot I tried to teach Mozart. Carol immediately put me in touch with her vet at Laurelwood Animal Hospital. I am forever indebted to Carol for her wise counsel--she is literally a lifesaver.
A thousand dollars later we discovered that my vet--excuse me, my former vet--nearly caused kidney failure by prescribing medication without taking into account its side effects. Luckily, the damage wasn't irrevocable. Sherman's now at home, eating a little (Costco sliced turkey and scrambled eggs--go figure) and taking new meds. Lest you think I'm one of those pet owners who prolongs an animal's misery, you'll have to trust me when I tell you that, despite his challenges, my little Peke hasn't given up on life. He's still alert, engaged and snuggly, charming everyone he meets with his fluffy adorableness. He's just very thin and sleepy.
I almost took a picture of his x-rays, but, given the gravity of the situation, it seemed disrespectful. So here instead is a contact paper portrait done by my friend, artist Brittany Powell.
Much more dignified.
