AUTHOR
Dean Allen

OCCUPATION
Industrialist

LOCATION
Bagnols ^s/Cèze, France

CONTACT
From here or

Volvulus · 8 September 2003

It was late in the afternoon yesterday, when, slowly at first, Oliver began to complain. He moped about, walking slowly, but didn’t seem to have pain or distress. For the first time since the all-consuming maw of Hugo came along and mealtime became suddenly competitive, he didn’t finish his dinner. Then came groaning, then whimpering. Occasionally he’d start one of those full-body convulsions that dogs have when they’re about to throw up, but nothing came of it.

He refused of course to verbalise what the problem was, opting instead to stare. Patting him on the side I could feel that the area beneath his ribcage was distended. Ah, then, he must have gorged himself stupid after clawing open the kibble barrel, or drank too much water, and, in any case, must really need to go outside.

The 40 kilos of hyperactive weimaraner at whom I ordinarily spend a good chunk of any walk yelling (you must calm the hell down), once out of doors, would only pace, his legs stiff and splayed, head held low. We went quietly home.

Nothing came of a quick glance through : no index entries for swollen stomach or stomach swollen (I should have looked under bloat). By now Oliver had climbed the stairs to where we sleep, something he just doesn’t do in the daytime.

What would you have done? This is the sort of thing that passes with time, no? I’d decided this must be the sort of thing that passes with time when, not really thinking, I picked up the vet handbook again. It fell open to Chapter 9, ‘The Digestive System’.

The classic signs of bloat () are restlessness and pacing, salivation, retching, unproductive attempts to vomit and enlargement of the abdomen … The dog appears lethargic, obviously uncomfortable, walks in a stiff-legged fashion, hangs his head, but may not look extremely anxious or distressed … In all cases where there is the slightest suspicion of bloat, take your dog at once to a veterinary hospital. Time is of the essence.

Then Gail was on the phone, then we were in the car.

Bloat is a life-threatening emergency that affects dogs in the prime of life. The mortality rate for gastric volvulus approaches 50 percent.

Lucky that I took a second look at the book; unbelievably freaking lucky that on a Sunday evening in a rather rural corner of the South Cévennes there’s an animal hospital, with a vet on standby, just fifteen minutes away in Quissac.

necrosis … organ rupture … ventricular arrhythmia

I drove fast, trying and failing to shout down the grim chorus of whatifs that began clattering in my head once I put the vet book down. Was not ready for this. Was not expecting this no sir. Oliver in the back seat, Gail beside, calming.

He was going into shock by the time we got to the hospital. This was in fact some serious shit. The assistant told us of dogs with volvulus who die within an hour. The vet was brusque: after the x-ray (not pretty) he said there was no choice but to operate.

Then there was the steel table, Oliver shaking. Gail dealing with forms. Me, starting to lose it, trying to keep Oliver steady (it’s okay buddy it’s okay) as the needle went in, letting slip blood, and the IV was hooked up, and the anti-shock drugs followed the antibiotics. The vet listed what they’d do during the operation (really not pretty), some of the risks, and we were told to go home. They would call. He walked us to the door.

Pause.

Thing is, you see, I’ve never lost anybody. As part of the gleaming green bracelet of impossibly good luck that exists to counterbalance my black bolt of explosively bad luck (there seems to be no middle ground) I’ve never experienced the death of anyone to whom I was really close. At this (dealing with it, preparing for it) I am a total beginner.

Long pause. Phone.

It’ll be a special diet from now on – no more smoked pig ears, no more salami – but otherwise it looks like he’ll be fine. We picked him up from the animal hospital this morning to take him to our regular vet, where he will stay under observation for a few days.

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