Belle (aka the Walking Disaster) came home the other night and it was pretty obvious that she had something in her eye besides an eyeball. This is not the first time it’s happened, for not only is she too stupid to come in out of the rain, she’s also too stupid to close here eyes when there’s all kinds of crap getting them as she runs through fields of seeding rye grass and all other manner of sharp, pointy flora (which we seem to have more than our four share of).
She wasn’t making a big deal about it, but I’ve learned not to be fooled by her (don’t forget this is a dog that failed to mention her leg was shattered and her hip socket broken). I think that one of the reason’s she gets so injured so often is that she has such a high threshold of pain. Anyway, I had a quick look and decided that whatever it was, it would probably just come out in a tear-drop, leaving me with four scientists and a submarine in my living room*.
By the following morning her eye seemed to have swollen quite a bit, so I took a closer look and saw what at first appeared to be an eyelash, but later proved something else entirely. The picture on the right was all I could see, and it really did look like an eyelash at first, but when I looked closer I discovered that it not only didn’t come from the eyelid like all the other eyelashes, but it seemed to have something connected to that disappeared out of sight beneath the lower eyelid. No matter how hard I tried it just wouldn’t budge, plus I didn’t have enough hands to hold her steady, keep her eye open and grab the object at the same time. The was nothing else to do but panic, which I’ve gotten quite good at since Belle entered my life.
I called the Vet and told them that I’d like to pay for one of their kid’s education, so they told me to come on in. Here’s where it gets interesting. I was worried about looking silly because I couldn’t get it out by myself, but in the end, each of the things I mentioned in the previous paragraph required a separate person, meaning it took three to finally get it out. And while it didn’t go so far as having the Vet standing on the table with his foot on her head, two hands straining at the object gripped with a pair of pliers and a pop like a champagne cork when it finally came out…it was pretty darned close.
In the end, it took me holding her firmly and calming her, the Vet holding her eye open while squeezing the object forward, and a vet tech easing it out with a pair of pliers. So what could possibly take this much effort just to get out of her eye?
May I present…”the object“.
No Belle post is complete without a picture of the Walking Disaster, so here’s the one that goes with the story, this is after we got home.
* Fot those who didn’t get the reference.