- Joined
- Oct 3, 2014
- Messages
- 65
Thanks again to everyone who pitched in, gave advice, offered words of wisdom, etc, for Anna Karenina, my five-year-old pride and joy. Last time we checked in, Anna was exhibiting sneezing/coughing sounds that my vet said might be a sign of something bad--even life threatening. The vet came last week, and thank God, it isn't. Life-threatening.
He checked Anna's vital signs, listened to her little heart, her even littler lungs, and took a look at her nose and mouth. I like him. The vet is thorough and seems to know his stuff. He thinks she *might* have a bacterial infection, so he prescribed Ceftazimide, which I give to her by injection once every two days. Anna also tested positive to intestinal parasites, so we're giving her banana-flavored liquid Metronid every 12 hours.
Anna is alive and well and will live for eternity if it's possible, tho I will say that these meds are TERRIBLY difficult to administer. The injection is terrifying for me--what if I hurt little Anna? How would I even know? What if I'm pushing too hard? Not hard enough? And the oral Metronid is just a nightmare; she hates the taste and gets the willies every time I walk up to her with the dropper in hand. He's got a knife! A gun! It's also difficult because Anna won't just open her mouth and swallow on command; she has to be coaxed into it while eating. So she clearly feels tricked, duped, and deceived.
But as I write this Anna's eyes are clearer than ever. She's got more energy than I've ever seen. And I have this feeling that when the treatments are over she'll be like a steroidal sprinter all ready for the 2016 Olympics. Super Anna!
Anna Karenina's just a terrific girl with a great bedside manner and sense of humor. I'd marry her if she wasn't a red-foot tortoise. Actually, don't tell my girlfriend that; nothing makes her more sore than when I anthropomorphize Anna like that. Usually it's as a child, not a wife. "You spend more time with Anna than you'll probably spend with our own child." The future tense hath less wrath I suppose.
But Anna's doing great, and I'm getting to know her better every day. It seems both comforting and insane to say it like that. Insane because, if a tortoise could talk, we probably wouldn't understand what she says. But it's comforting because she can count on me to know when she gets hungry, when she gets tired, and (now) when she needs her shot and her liquid parasite meds.
It seems to me that our torts probably couldn't hack it in the "wild." But then again, neither could we. We, too, were raised in captivity, but our enclosures are not made of glass; they are society and religion and the law. When thought about like that, it doesn't quite seem fair to ask whether our torts would survive (or be better off) in their natural habitats. The question doesn't really even make sense. They're with us now. We are their sacred canopies; they are our little friends to look after and love.
He checked Anna's vital signs, listened to her little heart, her even littler lungs, and took a look at her nose and mouth. I like him. The vet is thorough and seems to know his stuff. He thinks she *might* have a bacterial infection, so he prescribed Ceftazimide, which I give to her by injection once every two days. Anna also tested positive to intestinal parasites, so we're giving her banana-flavored liquid Metronid every 12 hours.
Anna is alive and well and will live for eternity if it's possible, tho I will say that these meds are TERRIBLY difficult to administer. The injection is terrifying for me--what if I hurt little Anna? How would I even know? What if I'm pushing too hard? Not hard enough? And the oral Metronid is just a nightmare; she hates the taste and gets the willies every time I walk up to her with the dropper in hand. He's got a knife! A gun! It's also difficult because Anna won't just open her mouth and swallow on command; she has to be coaxed into it while eating. So she clearly feels tricked, duped, and deceived.
But as I write this Anna's eyes are clearer than ever. She's got more energy than I've ever seen. And I have this feeling that when the treatments are over she'll be like a steroidal sprinter all ready for the 2016 Olympics. Super Anna!
Anna Karenina's just a terrific girl with a great bedside manner and sense of humor. I'd marry her if she wasn't a red-foot tortoise. Actually, don't tell my girlfriend that; nothing makes her more sore than when I anthropomorphize Anna like that. Usually it's as a child, not a wife. "You spend more time with Anna than you'll probably spend with our own child." The future tense hath less wrath I suppose.
But Anna's doing great, and I'm getting to know her better every day. It seems both comforting and insane to say it like that. Insane because, if a tortoise could talk, we probably wouldn't understand what she says. But it's comforting because she can count on me to know when she gets hungry, when she gets tired, and (now) when she needs her shot and her liquid parasite meds.
It seems to me that our torts probably couldn't hack it in the "wild." But then again, neither could we. We, too, were raised in captivity, but our enclosures are not made of glass; they are society and religion and the law. When thought about like that, it doesn't quite seem fair to ask whether our torts would survive (or be better off) in their natural habitats. The question doesn't really even make sense. They're with us now. We are their sacred canopies; they are our little friends to look after and love.
