...on being Duncan

Duncan is my six-year-old Springer Spaniel. He is your typical ADHD dog, full of spunk and continually on the move. The minute you say "leash" or "walk", he is all over the house searching for the leash. The moment I go to my sock drawer and withdraw a pair of white socks, he knows we are heading out and drives me crazy barking, yipping, running to the door, all the while dragging his red leash.

Two days ago on Wednesday, I brought him in and he could barely make it up the steps. He merely came in, lay down and whimpered occasionally. He stopped drinking water and stopped eating. A dog biscuit has been in the middle of my living room floor for two days, which is unheard of in this house, since he inhales all food sources immediately. For the first time in six years, Wednesday night, he did not jump on my bed to sleep. He did get up once in awhile and walk around, but without purpose and very slowly. Today, Friday, is the first day ever, he did not greet me at the door with tail wagging, stupid grin on his face and the mid-waist jumps.
He was where I left him this morning, lying on his blanket by my bed. It took me a full five minutes to coax him up and to walk around a bit. Even my husband was concerned on how we would even get him in the car since it appeared that his legs/hips/back was bothering him immensely. Jim went downstairs and made a special box so that we could transport him to the vet. The minute this dog was in the back seat, he was out of the box and all over the car. He had a complete personality change, jumping all around, wagging his tail and doing his normal "I’m in the car now I have to act bad" act. By the time we got to the vet, he was excited and more animated than I have seen him in the last 48 hours. Jim and I are just staring at each other in shock and his quick recovery. We even thought about just leaving and canceling the appointment, but decided to see it through, especially since he hasn’t eaten in two days.

While waiting for the doctor, I kept telling Duncan that he should at least have the courtesy and decency to act sick. Gheez…what a Bozo. When Dr. T. came into the room, there was Duncan, all smiles, waiting to see him. As we described his symptoms, which sounded as though Duncan was at death’s door, he was busy sniffing, jumping and running around. I was just mortified at taking up the good doctor’s time.

However, Dr. T. took all of this as a good sign and smiled, and informed us that from his observations, there was a good chance that his diagnosis was not of a neurological nature but more in the trauma area, such as a pulled muscle. The best course of treatment was to give Duncan a shot and then some pills for a few days, to see how things work out. He explained that the adrenaline kick of being in the car and at the office, probably masked the pain Duncan had been experiencing. The adrenaline rush probably wouldn’t mask something more serious. Very good news, considering the night before I was in tears, not knowing what to do for my baby.

Naturally, the first thing Duncan did upon returning home was drink from the toilet and eat his dog biscuit. At least now I’m not looking at that lonely dog bone in the middle of my floor any longer. So, there you have it…. Duncan, "the great imposter but I love all this attention" dog. Much loved, by the way.