Well, I guess I can breathe a small sigh of relief, in that I managed to get Fayth to eat something. She did not eat this morning, nor was she interested in the usual pellets in milk for supper. So I cooked up some rice, fish fingers and veg, mixed it all together and fed her. She really enjoyed it.

I have been concerned with her since Saturday evening, when we battled to convince her to eat, for the first time. It’s not like her to reject a bowl of milk, or a chunk of Husky on top of her pellets. We finally pursuaded her to eat 2 hours later, when she noticed Marc picking up a plate. He got a piece of ham out the fridge to whet her appetite and then everything was fine again.

She got Marc up in the early hours of Sunday morning, wanting to go out. When Marc got back to bed, he told me that she was just lying on the grass and didn’t want to come back inside. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. When I got up at about 6:30, she was still there, even though it was freezing cold. I called her inside and noticed she had a little difficulty getting up. She went to bed and lay there, shivering occasionally. I then used my wheelchair to push the bed, with her in it, in front of the heater. Then, I warmed some pellets and milk in the microwave for her breakfast, before giving her a Rimadyl tablet, to ease her pain and any possible inflammation. Marc also rubbed some iceman cream into her right hip which seemed to help.

I gave her another whole 100mg tablet last night, then half a one this morning and again just now. I didn’t want to continue her on a full tablet twice a day, in case of giving her a slight overdose. Tomorrow morning, she’ll get a whole one again.

I kept checking on her through the day, but she never got up. Finally at 5pm, we decided she had to go out to relieve herself. Marc literally had to lift her out of bed and on to her feet. Once she was up, she walked around slowly, almost carefully. Once she was done, she went back to bed. Last night she ate, but did not finish her usual meal.

To say that I am worried about her is an understatement. She turns 12 at the end of June. I hate the fact that she’s getting old. I don’t like to see her in discomfort either. Tomorrow, we’ll be taking her to the vet to see what he says.