Our Weedy dog is home and how glad we are. She is on a full dose, 50 mg., of prednisone per day for 21 days, will then be on a 1/2 dose per day for an additional 21 days, and finally, on a 1/4 dose every other day until the prescription runs out. Dr. Nydam said she should be cool, calm, and restful for at least one week, with NO livestock work. Thankfully sparrows are not livestock, because Weed is giving them her earnest best. Nor are gophers livestock, (although I did have a long ago student declare them to be "awesome" when grilled over open coals). That clears Weed to dash ahead of us on an otherwise sedate walk to check our first trap set of the season, signal success, grab the dead rodent from the trap, give it her fiercest, but unnecessary, death crunch, and parade triumphantly down the county road dangling her trophy from her teeth. So goes our little dog's convalescence.
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That's the diagnosis for our Border Collie rescue dog, Weed. We are glad to have a diagnosis after a long month of feeling that all was not well with her, despite her obsessive efforts to reassure us that she was A-okay.
On January 17, after noting blood in her urine, I took her to our vet clinic, and she was prescribed antibiotics for a bladder infection. Not satisfied with her improvement, I took her back to the clinic two weeks later. Her blood and urine had elevated levels of bilirubins. She was prescribed a different antibiotic and a diet for kidney health. On Sunday, five days ago, she worked like a trooper during shearing. She was everywhere she should have been, helping to push resistant ewes into pens, eagerly sending freshly-sheared ewes out of the barn, and vigilantly patrolling fence panels that ewes wanted to crowd against. That evening, however, she was lethargic and off feed, and her malaise continued. Two days ago, back at the vet clinic, her blood work showed declining levels of red blood cells and increasing levels of bilirubins. She was diagnosed with the above anemia. In hindsight, I'm glad that I was pushy and insistent upon her need for immediate attention, for her diagnosis was, by then, evident, and she was put on an IV drip to address her moderate dehydration and started on prednisone to recalibrate her immune system. Today, we learned that she needs to stay at the clinic at least through the weekend. As Dr. Nydam expected, her red blood cell count has dropped and she is weak from anemia. He stated, "She runs out of steam pretty fast." He and we are hopeful that the steroid has encouraged her immune system to reboot. Meanwhile, she is eating a "delicious" rich stew formulated for rebuilding red blood cells. We are optimistic and lonely. How silly it feels to be a piddle sleuth, but that is what I have become, after last week noticing blood in our Border Collie's urine. We hurried to the vet clinic for urine and blood lab work. Of course, Weed maintains discreet privacy if at all possible, so her urine sample had to be collected via a needle puncture to her bladder. The vet examined the sample for crystals, white blood cells, and abnormal cells that might suggest cancer, but found only anomalous red blood cells. She suggested rat poison as a possible cause of the bleeding, yet we have none, and Weed does not roam away from our place. We left the clinic with urinary-care kibbles and both anti-inflammatory and antibiotic meds. A recent dusting of snow has allowed this piddle sleuth to evaluate each and every one of Weed's squat locations, and, as of Monday, yellow snow is the only clue she's left behind. Whew!
I'm entering new territory with this blog post. To be safe, let me start with the weather. 'Twas negative 18 when we left the house this morning to feed livestock. The mercury rose to a balmy +2 early in the afternoon when I ventured forth to fill a stock water trough. Weed, our loyal Border Collie companion, joyously accompanied us for all chores, but her paws are sore from our sustained cold. Her protective booties should arrive in time for next week's predicted thaw.
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Margaret zieg ellerFor 25 years, Prairie Island has been my anchor, my core, my muse. The seasonal rhythms of land and livestock sustain me. The power of place inspires me. 
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