A Tough Day

Sunday, Blue woke up and her eyes were all red. She was also having trouble seeing. I wasn’t sure if she got sprayed by some creature or what. But she is a tough dog and has weathered tough situations and always bounced back. Now Blue, being a tough Bronx Pittie, didn’t show signs of distress, or pain, other than her obvious anxiety at losing her sight. She was the same old sweet Blue, and the granz all rallied around her to inject whatever loving energy they could. Blue seemed to respond positively to the extra attention. But I did run my hands over every inch of her body and found a tiny tick under her arm, whcih bled a little when I dislodged it. I popped it in a baggie.

Monday mornings always suck a little. Not Monday’s fault, it’s just someone decided to give that name to the first day of most work and school weeks, so over 67 years I have attached a certain malaise to the day.

Like the negative connotations to the woman’s name Karen (sorry Cruiser).

When Blue woke up Monday morning with blood oozing out of her eyes and mouth, we called the local Berthoud Vet and made an emergency appointment to bring her in.

My own eyes were burning, and I would be lying if my mind didn’t wander to the film 28 Days. A tough way to fall off the vegetarian wagon.

Blue does not like going to the vet. But she allowed us to lift her 82 pound body into the car and otherwise did not complain.

On the way into town, I noticed a thick spout of billowing grey smoke rising from the northwest off in the distance. I prayed it was a controlled burn by some responsible government agency.

I was whistling past the graveyard. But I didn’t want to alarm Lisa, who was trying to keep her focus on Blue.

The young Vet, Dr. Lawrence, was professional, friendly, attentive and concerned, and, after examining Blue, recommended that we run a battery of tests to try and rule out all kinds of blood clotting problems, which she suspected was systemic, and not limited to just Blue’s eyes and nose. She also did chest x-rays, which came back unremarkable for a ten year old dog.

Because I had shown her the tick, she also ran a blood panel of tick-borne illnesses.

She promised to get back to us with the results first thing in the morning – this morning.

Then we popped Blue back in the car and headed home.

During that two hour stretch the fire in the distance had grown more intense.

And given that it was near the direction of Casa Claire, I was more concerned.

When we arrived home we made Blue comfortable and went out to monitor the fire from the back of our property. We spent most of the afternoon and evening watching the fire burn. It was surreal.

Georgie was being a wonderful wife and doing her best to celebrate my son Luke’s 44th birthday (I was only 8 when I had him). So the grans were busy giddily bringing him presents and snacks throughout the day, which kept them from focusing on the fire. But as a one time member of the Denver Fire Department, Luke had spent the day with one eye on the fire. He did his best to keep his family from being alarmed. I took my cues from Luke. I knew that as a worst case scenario, all the humans could hop in the car and drive South to Denver, where they could stay in the big house with Veronica and b (who had texted that invitation).

I was more focused on remembering the protocol for contacting the Colorado Horse Rescue fire evacuation service I had signed up for. There was no way I was leaving Casa Claire without my fur family.

Blue slept on the basement couch most of the afternoon. She was wrapped in one of the grans cartoon blankets, which absorbed most of the blood that was still oozing from her eyes and nose. But other than that, she remained a stoic.

My neighbor, Dick S, from across Beverly Drive stopped by so he could view the progress of the fire from our back deck.

Dick is a retired ex-military, aerospace engineer who has lived in Berthoud since the early nineties. He is a brilliant man whose mind is always calculating. He didn’t like the direction of the wind. Or the size of the billowing pipe rising from our north.

For me, it evoked images of Sauron’s mountain. The property was blanketed with that campfire smell of smoke.

Claire and Honey didn’t like the view from by the barn,

so they spent most of their time up in our backyard,

watching the fire along with the rest of us.

And, despite the obvious 900 pound gorilla up north, since McCaffreys are eternal optimists by nature, we went on to have a wonderful family dinner and celebrate Luke’s birthday with a cake full of candle flames befitting his accumulation of time, giving the event a Saturday Evening Post feel to it.

While the grans looked on.

While out back, through those sliding glass doors behind Savanna, burned another fire. I couldn’t help wondering who was going to blow that candle out.

The good news was that Blue felt strong enough to gobble up the steak leftovers from everyone (but me), which I took as a good sign.

My daughter Jackie, who is up in Breckenridge, sent me a text with her analysis of what could be ailing Blue – Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever – a tick borne illness that results in Blue’s symptoms, that can be treated if caught early enough. I called (after hours) and left a detailed message with the Vet’s voicemail, knowing that professionals hate being armchaired quarterbacked, and not giving a shit because this was Blue.

And after enjoying some additional time with the grans and the kids and the wife out on the back deck, watching the surreal smoke rise over the foothills, I took Blue with me to bed. I knew that Luke would remain on watch. He did.

Blue fell into such a deep sleep she didn’t even stir when Lisa climbed into bed a few hours later. I could hear her snoring when I woke up this morning.

I could not see any glowing coming from the foothills and I didn’t see any smoke blocking the beautiful stars above me, so I took that as a good sign.

The Mules were waiting for me in the yard, but followed me down to the new barn for their meal. I didn’t smell smoke.

I’m now hoping that my luck holds and the Vet comes back with a Rocky Mountain Fever diagnosis. While it won’t guaranty a full recovery, it will give me hope, and sometimes that is enough.

When I was going through my photos from yesterday, I caught a strange reflection photo that I must have snapped from my moving car as I returned from the Vet yesterday.

I’m taking that as a positive sign.

Well, it’s Tuesday. You fine, five readers need to get that last cuppa joe down the hatch and get out there. We need to make our daily contribution towards keeping each of our families moving forward in a positive direction. Keep that hope alive.

I’m going to cuddle some kitties and make my rounds in a neighborhood that is blessedly intact.

Then I’m going to call the Vet. With hope.

But no matter what else we get up to today, take nothing for granted, and let’s make this a great one.

My prayers remain with the families of anyone up north of me affected by the fire.