Poppy’s Near Death Experience

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When Poppy first came to live with us she wanted to be friends with everyone and everything, even cats. She actually had a cheek to cheek cuddle with the first cat she met when she was allowed out for walks. The only things she couldn’t bring herself to trust were puddles outside; puddles on the floor in the house were OK, understandably so given that most of those were made by Poppy herself.

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Sadly recent events have taught Poppy not to be so trusting. Bees are now right up there with puddles, and I’m pretty sure I’ve earned a place on her blacklist too.

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One morning as Poppy was completing her morning rounds of the garden and I was waiting at the kitchen door to let her in, I saw her look sharply to one side, then recoil in fear, darting into a corner of the patio. Shortly thereafter she seemed to be choking, and losing control of her legs. We ran out and I picked her up, and as I held her I became genuinely afraid that she was about to asphyxiate right there in my arms. Out of desperation and without proper thought, I did the same thing I’d done to help Beanie in the past when she had choking incident with a rawhide chew: I stuck my fingers down Poppy’s throat to feel for any obstruction and hopefully pull it out. I should point out that this is is not all the recommended course of action when a dog starts choking; there’s a doggy version of the Heimlich manoeuver which is a much better and safer option. Regardless, my intervention did ease her breathing but her legs were still giving way when she tried to stand. This improved over the next minute or so, and then for a brief period she became quite aggressive, growling and howling at me and warning me off. In the time it took Susan to call the vet and get an emergency appointment, Poppy seemed to have returned to normal, but of course we took her for a checkup anyway.

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“Bee sting.” That was the vet’s immediate response when we relayed what we’d observed, and it seemed to explain most things: the sharp look to one side, the fearful reaction and the shock. It might even go some way to explaining the growling and wild arrooing, though there could also be another factor at play for that one. I mean, imagine you’d come really close to being run over by a bus. Still trembling from the adrenaline rush and shock of the near miss, you tell your story to a bystander and they respond by saying “Blimey, I’d better stick my fingers down your throat then”.

Regardless, this brush with death has caused Poppy to think seriously about having puppies to continue her line. Procreation is turning out to be quite tricky though. She’s been humping the heck out of Monkey..

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..and she’s even tried planting herself like a seed in a pot full of compost, but as yet no pups have materialised. Is it possible she’s doing something wrong?

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It’s all terribly confusing and exhausting.

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