More from the Ivan Files

On a recent Sunday afternoon Ivan began drooling shortly after we came home from running a quick errand. We quickly determined Ivan could not open his mouth. Off we went to the vet hospital, trying not to panic as I envisioned all sorts of things. What if he had lockjaw? There was no shredded paper to greet us when we returned, but what if he had mercury poisoning from the ink in a magazine that we missed? What if he had something caught in his throat and started choking any second now?

The vet showed us the paper wedged around Ivan’s teeth. He had apparently gotten an overlarge bite of paper stuck, and could not open his mouth. They decided to try a mild sedative so he would let them open his mouth and remove the paper. (I cautioned them that when he could open his mouth, he would probably not be a happy boy.) Eric persuaded me to go home to wait with him and Dasa. He thought this was a wise move in as much as they do not dispense human sedatives at the vet hospital.

About half an hour after we got home, just as I was starting to think of all sorts of things that could go wrong, they called. They had taken Ivan down the hall to be x-rayed so they could see what else might be going on. When they started to move him, he was not happy. His resistance combined with the now soggy state of the paper to allow him to open his mouth and make his displeasure known.

Off we went, back to the vet hospital to pick up our boy. The vet staff seemed more than happy to say goodbye to my sweet puppy. On the ride home I was still trying to breathe deeply and not think about this recent scare, but Ivan snuggled on my lap, tired but seemingly unperturbed by his adventures. I slept downstairs with Ivan just in case he was sick during the night. Ivan and Dasa curled up in opposite corners of the couch and I slept on the floor beside the couch. They yawned and were soon snoozing happily under their blankies while it took me several hours to get to sleep. Ivan woke up demanding food, as usual. Food has been, umm, cycling through with no problem.

Another recent weekly vet visit involved Ivan somehow cutting both back feet between the pads. We have no clue how this happened, although I suspect it involved scrambling over the bricks and rocks around the flower bed by the back door so he could pee on the roses and avoid contact with the wet grass. He had to wear booties on our walks for a couple of days, and his elegant white feet healed nicely.

At one of our many visits to the Hawthorne Pet Hospital, the attending vet looked at Ivan, curled up in an adorable ball on my lap, and said, “Ivan, we’ll have to give you your own wing soon.” Our puppy boy has gained quite a reputation. The paper jammed around the teeth story seems to be the current favorite.