Strange things we find ourselves doing when Mango is sick

Mango has an unusual amount of health issues for a dog who is otherwise so spritely and vibrant. 

Her list of ailments include allergies that present as itchy skin, blisters, swollen eyes or muzzle, and an upset tum-tum. In October last year she became ill with meningitis, the most obvious symptom being severe neck pain. Thankfully the meningitis hasn’t returned (touch wood) but the neck pain has come back twice now, and it’s a mystery I’m desperate to solve.

Just over a week ago Mango went in for surgery to get desexed, and what we expected to be an uneventful recovery has so far included one allergic reaction and subsequent trip to emergency, the return of mysterious neck pain that she gets on and off and in the last couple of days a nasty cough.

Here are some of the strange things we have to do to keep her comfortable when she’s sick.

Bring out the special sick bed

When we were preparing to bring Mango home I bought this huge expensive bed (on sale, mind you) that my partner and friends cautioned me against, saying if she didn’t end up liking it it would be a waste. 

At first I seemed to have proved them wrong, as tiny Mango snuggled up in it at night.  But it wasn’t long til she was doing a lot less sleeping and a lot more funny-buggers in that bed. She’d pounce on it, zoom over it, dig in it, snoofle around it, scruffle it up and snort her face into the corner. It had cast some sort of silly spell on her; it was no longer for rest, but had become a thing of rat-baggery and mischief. 

But, here’s the thing about that bed: when she is sick the spell lifts. She remembers how soft and enveloping it is, how resting her weary head on the sides takes the pressure off her sore neck, and how cozy it is. In fact once, when Mitch had accidentally blocked off access to it, she pawed until he brought it out for her and she promptly went to sleep in it. When she’s sick she spends all day in it. 

Grant bed privileges

Before we knew Mango had meningitis, we spent a weekend in and out of the vet’s and emergency trying to piece together her various symptoms in order to get her diagnosed and start treatment. We didn’t know what was going on with her, but it was clear that something was desperately wrong, She spent the majority of her time on her side, whining and panting, and it would take her a full five minutes of straining to get herself into an upright position. She was clearly in agony. Seeing her like that without knowing what was causing it was scary. 

I was scared she would die before we could figure out what was wrong, so I had her sleep in our bed so I could check on her in the night. Since then it’s become a thing - when she’s healthy she sleeps in the loungeroom on her bed, but when she’s sick she sleeps on our bed with us. 

Side note: another thing we find ourselves doing when she’s sick is snuggling. I’m usually extra tired after getting up for her in the night, so we might nap in the afternoon or evening and she’ll rest her chin on my shoulder and snuggle. This is strange because when she’s well she never does it, but it is so welcome. I wish she did it all the time. 

The ‘sheep carry’ (plus pause for paws for consent)

This week Mango’s abdomen and back have been sore post-surgery, and her neck pain has returned, so we’ve reintroduced the ‘sheep carry’ for getting her on and off the bed, and up and down the stairs from our deck to the backyard.

The sheep carry looks how it sounds - we carry her as if she were a lame ewe, one arm under her chest, the other in the crook under her bum. 

Our sheep carry includes a very important ‘pause for paws’ - we bend down to pick her up, arms in position but not yet touching her, and pause, waiting for the symbol of consent that she offers in the form of lifting her paw, and gently placing it on our arm. This tells us she a) wants to be picked up and b) is ready for it. The position also clearly makes things more comfortable, which is the goal.  

Place food up high

Even if she’s really hungry, Mango can’t touch the floor when her neck is giving her grief. I notice her pawing at dropped kibble or socks (grr), or how she might nudge her nose at a handful of kibble trying to get it, until I lower it to a point where she knows she can’t reach and she stops. 

So when Mango is sick all her water and food bowls end up on little buckets around the house so she can reach them without bending over. 

Make good soup

As with most dog’s, Mango’s appetite is a good indicator of her wellbeing. The tricky thing is that she gets much fussier about her food when she’s sick (fair enough, I think a lot of us do that too). She also seems to struggle with certain textures and has a hard time chewing. 

So we turn all her food into soup. 

I blend her food, soak her kibble, and put boiling water in her food in the morning and serve her a warm porridge-y soupy slop. When she can’t move her neck she just stands upright and laps awkwardly laps at it, bits of mincey-kibbly-vegies flying. 

Not all of it makes it in her mouth, but it’s more than she’d eat if it weren’t served as soup. 

Spoon-feed. Literally. 

When she’s not enthused about food I try to entice her by spoon-feeding her first. If at first she rejects her bowl of ‘soup’ I’ll then put a little smidge of it on a spoon and offer that to her instead. She licks what is offered to her, maybe out of habit, but after doing this about eight times she realises that the bowl of soup is actually quite appetising and she’ll start eating.

Farmers raising working cattle dogs would be so ashamed.

Grass runs and sniffy bouquets

Mango goes for grass when she’s unwell. She munches on it like a goat. In summer the grass in our backyard gets dry and shriveled, so if she’s house-bound like she is now she misses it. When I see her nibbling on weed or tree leaves I know it’s cos she’s craving grass.

So we go get her some! We’ve figured out that she likes the dark and short-growing variety the most, with its tender blades, so we get her chunks of it and she is always excited to receive it when we get home.

That, and sniffy bouquets. When she was on an immuno-suppressive dose of steroids for her meningitis she wasn’t allowed to go out for sniffy walks at all, so I would bring her back a bouquet of grass and weeds collected at all her favourite spots for her to sniff. I figured it was a nice way for her to stay up to date with the neighbourhood happenings, too. 

Look out for strange signs that tell us she’s on the mend

When she’s sick we carry her around, put her food up high and feed it to her with a spoon, trying to make her comfortable and help her recover quickly. 

We take trips to the vet, and watch her day by day, looking for signs of decline or improvement. It’s not always obvious when she’s improving, but subtle indicators let us know if she’s on the way:

• Bending down to the ground (to eat possum poo) is a sign she’s regaining mobility in her neck and that it’s less painful for her

• When she starts concerning herself with the movement of possums again I know she’s feeling better. She turns into a spikey girl and borks at them on the deck. 

• If she’s more playful I know she’s feeling more optimistic - ‘oinking’ her pig toy by stomping on it is always a good sign