Since Wednesday night, my right-hand man Busta has suffered from a severe limp. I checked his paws and legs thoroughly and found nothing, but by Friday, my boy could barely stand. By Friday night, Busta was spending much of his time lying down. My premonition said that it was serious. I mean, he wasn’t pulling away or reacting to my inspecting his legs and yet he couldn’t sustain himself on his back paws. Saturday afternoon, right after Caspar and I had our cars inspected, we rushed Busta over to the vet where the prognosis left me shocked, disheveled and with my stomach in knots. Busta is suffering from paralysis of his hind quarters – possibly brought about from his jumping off of furniture and having several of his discs compressing key nerves in his back. The doc gave Busta a steroid shot and gave me anti-inflammatory pills to give him for a week. His future depends on how well he responds to this treatment. You see, if the inflammation around his spine does not subside and allow him to walk again, Busta will require risky surgery that may render him completely paralyzed. As I stated to the doctor, I will not subject my trusted friend to that type of torture. So, my fingers and toes are crossed in the hopes that my baby will respond to the treatment. The cost-prohibitive treatment of having my son cut open without any guarantees is not something I will undertake. I couldn’t do anything else after the vet appointment outside of coming home to spend time with Busta and cry. The funny thing is that Busta found the strength to come off his make-shift bed to lick my hands and comfort me while I cried. I picked him up and carried him around all evening.
Is it inhumane to subject our pets to grueling and uncertain surgical procedures to keep them around or should we do everything possible to keep them in our lives?
Keep passin’ the open windows…