Poor Zelda!

Yes...I know Zelda is just a dog.

 But she is MY dog.

 She is a living creature, 

 and I'm the one responsible for her care.

 So I was one worried doggy-mama 

when I realized by Sunday morning
she wasn't feeling well.

 I started thinking back over the past few days:

 Thursday, she felt fine...normal behavior and activity.

On Friday, she pretty much hung out
 on the couch all day, 

and snuggled with her mama a lot.

Silly me, I was flattered...

she usually chooses her daddy.

She's got him wrapped around her finger.

There's a reason her middle name is Rotten.

Literally.

Zelda Rotten Reagan.

By Saturday, I realized she hadn't really eaten 

any of her food from her dish.

Sure, she'd eat treats and snacks and cheese.

She loves cheese.

It's her favorite snack...

she even recognizes the sound of the drawer

(in the fridge, where we keep the cheese)

and, of course, the sound of the plastic wrap.

On Sunday, we realized she still wasn't eating...

hadn't really played much...

wouldn't jump onto the couch, where she loves to sleep.

She kept her tail tucked between her legs.

She was still drinking fine...but not eating.

She wasn't even interested 

in coming into the kitchen while I cooked.

Normally, she stays underfoot...

hoping something drops to the floor!

We had concerns she'd gotten over-heated, 

since it's been in the high 90's

 and even into the low 100's.

I thought maybe she'd gotten bit by a bug

 or stung by a bee or wasp.

Since she wouldn't jump, 

we got scared she'd hurt her back.

Dachshunds are prone to back trouble, 

but you can't keep this girl from jumping. 

Well, usually!

I checked her whole body, Marc looked for ticks.

I analyzed every movement when she walked. 

We couldn't figure anything out.

Our neighbor has 4 dogs,

 3 dalmatians and a dachshund.

They're the ones who told us 

about the litter we got Zelda from.

Mrs. Wanda just had knee surgery, 

so I'd cooked them dinner,

and Marc walked it next door.

He asked Mr. Larry about Zelda's symptoms,

and he warned Marc about a few things,

 including her anal glands.

Sure enough...

her little bottom was swollen!

Monday morning, we were at the vet's office at 8:20.

According to their hours, they open at 8:30,

but the door was already open 

and four people were ahead of us.

Ugh!

I was frustrated because I'd been awake since 7:00,

 worried sick about my doggy.

Frustrated because we have a really good vet, 

with the lowest prices in town...

but the wait is always forever.

Frustrated because a huge Marmaduke dog

 had severe diarrhea in the waiting room.

(Seriously, I've changed hundreds of diapers, 

but had to walk outside.

I felt so badly for the guy who cleaned it up...

what a way to start your Monday!)

Yuck!)

Frustrated because the doctor 

didn't get there until after 9:00!

Oh, but we were entertained during our 2 hour wait!

Saw big, 

BIGGER, 

and then the 

BIGGEST 

dogs come in.

Seriously...there was a yellow lab,

 who left his hairs swirling in the air.

He looked like a polar bear.

It took two grown men to pull him in,

 then some skinny girl 
is the one who took him in the back!

(While Will Parker, who works at our vet, 

grabbed the other mini doxie with them!)

Then in comes a thick, burly, brown looking dog...

who very well could've been a bear.

When the HUGE dog came in, 

several people in the waiting room laughed, 

and Marc asked,

"What's going to be next, a horse?"

He kept commenting that kids

 could ride the dog, it was so big.

Clifford the Big Red Dog kind of big.

"Grandma, get the saddle...the kids wanna ride!"

2 hours in, we were delirious!

Finally, we saw the doctor at 10:30.

Waited 2 hours.

Took all of 10 minutes.

Zelda got her annual vaccinations,

her claws clipped, 

and her anal glands "expressed."

(Yuck, I know...

could've gone my whole life 

without that experience!)

Poor, baby!

Apparently, the anal glands

 can get infected or blocked 

when there's a lack of fiber in a dog's diet.

And it happens in smaller dogs 

more often than larger breeds.

I was just so grateful for a diagnosis...

and a quick, cheap solution!

By the time we got home...

Zelda was running and playing.

Already back to her regular self.

Except jumping.

Seems we spoiled her 

by picking her up for 2 days straight.

By today, she's chasing her ball...

eating...

jumping...

and napping on the couch.

Like I said, Rotten!

(And if you read this far, 

you deserve some kind of medal.

Thank you for caring about our doggy-baby.

She isn't just man's best friend...

she's my best buddy ever. 

We're big Zelda fans around here!)