Actually, it was his ribs. Rocky’s a 4 year-old Chihuahua who thinks he’s tougher than any other dog, regardless of its size. After doing who knows what to our German Shepherd, Sheba, yesterday he took a severe butt whoopin’ that would surely have caused his death if he hadn’t been found by our friend Heath and his girlfriend. They saw Sheba digging wildly in the leaves outside and guess who was in those leaves? Yep, it was Rocky.
He was bloody and snarling. Heath called Christine to see what they should do. It just so happens that Christine was in the hospital preparing to undergo a colonoscopy and I was about to run some errands while waiting for her. I answered her phone and told Heath to get Rocky to the vet, pronto! With some coaxing I talked them through getting a towel to wrap him in so he wouldn’t bite them and they were on their way.
I arrived at the vet about 3 minutes before they did. When they arrived Rocky wasn’t in shock, but he sure didn’t look good. He looked pitiful, all bloody and shaking. Poor thing. The vet looked at him within minutes and thought it was only broken ribs. He would confirm when I came back with Christine after her procedure. When we returned, Rocky was on an IV and the vet thought he should spend the night. He had several broken ribs and injured his front leg.
Christine picked up Rocky this morning and we’ve moved him from the shop to the house. He’s on strong antibiotics and pain killers. His wounds are draining, so he’s going to remain a bit of a bloody mess for awhile. In any case, he’s going to enjoy the elite status of “house dog” while he recuperates. I think it’s going to be a good month or two before he’s ready to go back with the others. We’ll have to see how quickly he heals.
We’ve moved Sheba to my man cave, where she’ll enjoy a quiet retirement away from the smaller dogs. She’ll only have to be careful to conduct herself properly around the Filas, who share our large yard with her. Otherwise she may be the next to get a butt whoopin’! Sheba’s getting a bit more ornery in her advancing years. She’s 10 now and is also a bit lame. She’ll spend the rest of her days as my “cave dog.”