I am a person hardened by various horrors and trials, but life prepared me for nothing like this.
My little dog Daisy fell ill. Well, to say she was ill… she simply overindulged.
I have no idea where this fifteen-centimetre creature hides six extra stomachs. She scrounges food with an intensity that only professional orphans possess and can never seem to be full. Naturally, we fall for her charm and feed her generously. Foolish, loving fools, I swear.
How could you not feel sorry for her? Those little eyes of hers sparkle like the ones in that song my father brought back from his expedition to Mongolia, the one he sang to me instead of lullabies, “I sat and wept bitterly, as I ate little and… well, forgive me, relieved myself a lot.” She looks at me with those eyes as if it’s the last time. How could you resist giving her a piece of mango or a small fish?
At least she doesn’t drink. I shudder to think how we’d manage if she did.
So, anyway. Once again, she gorged herself and then collapsed suddenly. Just like that, one moment she was a cheerful little dog, and the next, she was gasping like a dying swan – neck twisted, my dear ones, cue Saint-Saëns’ music. In a panic, we searched for ticks. We took her temperature. The thermometer broke completely; she rolled her eyes, said her goodbyes, and lay down to die.
Taxi. Traffic jams. Tears of farewell. The best vet in the entire universe. While she was healthy, and pestering us for food, I thought, “Why on earth did I get into this animal business? I ought to return her to the shelter and be done with it; she’s devoured my soul!” But as she lay there dying, I thought: “My dear precious one, how will I manage without you?”
We finally arrived. The vet uttered the fateful words: “Cold, hunger, and rest!” A whole day with no food or water, then gradually we could offer her small sips, as he injected her with something potent and took her temperature again.
He managed to calm us down a bit and sent us on our way.
An hour after the injections, the little creature started to perk up. We turned off the music, and in her eyes flickered that same insatiable, orphaned spark. Eat! Drink! Give me something! I’m going to die, you rascals!
The spot on the floor where her bowls had previously sat shone with cleanliness. She found a lid that had accidentally rolled under the table and chased it around the house until morning, longing for something to be tossed in her direction.
But no. We remained resolute. The horrifying moment came when we remembered we still had a cat in the house who also needed food and water.
Oh dear… the door we held together with our strong bodies trembled as if the little dog behind it was smashing it down with a siege engine. But we held our ground as best we could and managed to stand firm.
We spent the night in dread and horror because Daisy tried three times with her little paws to break into the fridge.
She whimpered and grunted with effort, making us doubt her health at least ten times. Then, that poor creature settled down on the floor, just in front of my head, and stared at me with reproachful eyes until six in the morning, refusing to let me sleep.
In the morning, I resolved that the entire family wouldn’t eat until we received the vet’s green light, because even the sight of a cup of coffee sent the dog leaping almost to my son’s face. Not mine, unfortunately, but Ilya’s. The lad stands at 192 centimetres and has a long life ahead…
By lunchtime, I surrendered and snuck into the kitchen. Silently, with one powerful motion, I opened a tin of peas, scooped some onto a spoon, but my hand trembled, and two peas fell onto my slipper before they ever made it to my mouth. My goodness… I nearly lost my leg… This little insatiable creature inhaled those peas along with the rabbit pom-pom that so beautifully adorned my slippers…
And now we face a week of dietary restrictions. I truly have no idea how we will survive or where to turn. I’m writing this from the bathroom, locked in. If anything happens, don’t think ill of me.
I fear my body will only sustain her for three days at most. And then? The thought is terrifying…
