A Moment of Jen
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Thursday, June 19, 2003
posted by Jen at 6/19/2003 10:16:00 PM

The Wend is on the mend.

I think we've finally turned the corner here. Wendell slept curled up on a pillow next to my bed last night, instead of standing up panting and shaking. He wagged his tail a little bit this morning, even though it's mostly still tucked up against his backside, and sipped some water and chicken broth. He's moving more easily and whimpering and squealing a lot less. And tonight he accepted his antibiotics and pain pills embedded in little chunks of brie and pate (yeah, he's spoiled. Do not bother sending me emails telling me that he is spoiled. My Mom will take care of that).

We're all very grateful for all of the support we've received, from emails and links from other weblogs.

But I'm completely dismayed at how many people sent me horror stories of their own, about a beloved pet who got attacked, bitten, shaken, and even killed by unrestrained, uncontrolled dogs....and how many of those dogs' owners either ignored what was happening, ran away, or tried to blame the victim.

We still haven't found the guy who owns the dog who did this. I'm trying not to be angry about it and to trust that karma will do its job and that eventually he will find himself with his arm wedged down a garbage disposal with a broken on/off switch and will have some idea how my Wendell must feel.

But it's hard not to be angry, thinking of this dog out there, getting tied to park benches and parking meters, doing this to someone else's pet.

And it's especially galling to think that this guy's got a daughter. What kind of example do you think he'll be setting for her? How to take situations where you're clearly at fault and try to twist them around and blame the person who got hurt? How to curse and threaten a guy with a baby in his arms? How to look at a dog who's in pain and sneer "Aw, that don't look so bad?" How being an adult means never having to say you're sorry?

Argh. Okay, getting angry again. Must think happy thoughts. Like by next week I'll be sitting on a beach reading the new Harry Potter book.
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Wednesday, June 18, 2003
posted by Jen at 6/18/2003 01:15:00 PM

Oh, this is just awful.

Poor Wendell is in so much pain that he can neither sit or lie down comfortably. So since he came home yesterday morning he has basically been frozen in one position -- on all fours, tail tucked between his legs, shivering and panting, either under a table, in a corner, or behind the toilet tank. He's had a little water and licked some chicken broth off of my fingers but has rejected all of his favorite treats, including peanut butter and a hot-dog chunk. And every once in a while he'll start to doze off and his hindquarters will begin to sink toward the floor and he'll almost make it into a sit and then give this horrible squeal of pain and get back on all fours.

Last night, in addition to the shake/pant/squeal combination, his incision started bleeding, which occasioned frantic calls to his vets, and, eventually, a new kind of antibiotic (liquid, with a dropper, so we could slide it into the corner of his mouth). Needless to say, nobody here got much sleep last night.

This morning, we went back to the vet, who examined him closely.

"The wound looks okay," he said. And Wendell's not running a fever, which means no peritonitis -- the big fear when you've got a bite to the abdomen. His take? "Well, your dog seems to be the kind of dog who feels things very acutely."

In other words, Wendell is a big drama queen. Tell me something I don't already know.

We got another shot of painkiller in the hope that it will give the little guy some relief, and limped back home. I would post a picture, but it's just too sad. The wound looks horrible. Plus, Wendell had to have his side shaved, and the tragic thing is, not only is his fur black-and-white spotted, but his skin is, too. And I know he thinks that that's his secret and he'd prefer not to share it with the whole Web-surfing world.

Meanwhile, still no word on the owner of the dog who did this, and I'm trying to figure out how to proceed. Adam and I put signs around the neighborhood, figuring that the guy has to live around here and somebody probably knows him, but so far nothing. So do I contact the local newspapers/TV stations on the grounds that Wendell is sort of a celebrity dog (his picture graces the back cover of GOOD IN BED), and cast the net wider?


Anyhow, on a non-Wendell note, Lucy's now taking this homeopathic remedy for gas called gripe water, which is made with herbs like dillweed and caraway. As a result, my daughter seems a little more comfortable. And she smells like an Everything bagel.
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Tuesday, June 17, 2003
posted by Adam at 6/17/2003 03:05:00 PM

Well, Wendell has come after a night at the vet's -- shaved, stitched up, and in so much pain he squeals every time he moves. In so much pain that he ignored a specially-prepared lamb chop, and is currently hiding in the smallest corner of the kitchen, panting and shaking.

We are still looking for the owner of the dog who did this. We don't care about the vet bills. We just want the guy to muzzle his dog so that this doesn't happen to anyone else's pet.

If you saw anything or know anything, please email me at jen@jenniferweiner.com.
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Monday, June 16, 2003
posted by Jen at 6/16/2003 06:47:00 PM

Attention, Philadelphians: does anyone living in Queen Village know a guy in his twenties -- maybe six feet tall and skinny, with dark hair and dark eyes and olive skin, with a white and grey, blue-eyed Siberian Husky and a two-year-old daughter who lives somewhere in the vicinity of Fourth and Monroe? Because Wendell got attacked tonight, and the dog and his owner took off.

Adam and I and Lucy Jane were walking Wendell to Essene, the health food store at the corner of Fourth and Monroe. We rounded the corner and the dog, who was tied to a bench outside of the store, lunged at Wendell and bit him on his back and leg and shook him in the air. Wendell was squealing, I was screaming, Lucy Jane was crying -- and the guy sitting next to the husky on the bench didn't look too thrilled to be in the middle of it.

Eventually the dog let go of Wendell, who was bleeding down his side and couldn't walk. Adam tried to scoop Wendell up and I went into the store. Eventually Mr. Husky Owner came out. "Whu happened?"

We told him. He squinted at Wendell, who was shivering and whimpering and bleeding all over Adam's shirt.

"Well, he don't look hurt."

Trust us. He's hurt.

"Well, my dog was tied up."

Yeah, but not tied up tightly enough that it couldn't lunge at and attack other dogs.

He shrugged. "You've got a fuckin' responsibility! When you see a dog tied up, you cross the fuckin' street!"

Um, no, actually, sir, you've got a responsibility. If your dog goes after other dogs, you put a muzzle on it, or you don't leave it out where it can get at other dogs.

Luckily, a woman who worked at Wendell's vet was in the store at the time, and she helped me get Wendell to the office around the corner, where he is right now, under sedation, because the vet is trying to figure out how badly he's injured and whether his leg got broken or just bruised.

Adam stayed behind to try to get the guy to at least give us his name and number, which he wouldn't do. Someone in the store called the police, but by the time they arrived the guy was gone, and Adam wasn't about to go chasing after him with Lucy in his arms.

So....if you live in Queen Village and you know a young dark-haired guy with a white and grey blue-eyed Siberian husky who says he's got a toddler ("And my fuckin' dog never fuckin' touches her!") please drop a line to jen@jenniferweiner.com. Let's use the blogosphere to fight crime!
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