It's been so hard this week without Sydney Sue. The house just seems so empty without her. She was my rock, my constant, my unflappable girl. When we woke up Tuesday morning, Stewart and Shae padded around, looking lost and sad. We went outside to potty, we made coffee. It was so quiet. I finally fed them breakfast, having had put it off so that I didn't have to deal with the reality of only filling 3 bowls. I left Sydney's food bowl where it always has been, a silent sentinel in her memory. I didn't go to work that day.
The good news is that her weight is up to 62.5 lbs, that's a lot better than the 54 she was at for the last visit. She looks like hell, with the sores and the pee-colored fur and her fur just looks crappy even without the staining. She was laying on the rug in the entry way when the vet came out, he thought she was dying. That's a bad sign. She wasn't, well, she is, but right that minute she was just being a typical greyhound, why be upright when you can pass out on the floor with your tongue hanging out.
We are now eight and a half weeks post-diagnosis. Up until last week, she'd been doing really well. So well, in fact, that it was hard to remember that she is still sick. Starting a few weeks ago, she began leaking urine when she slept.
I did it. I tried 3 new recipes in one night. I made Julia Child's Coq au vin, or chicken in red wine; I made savory bread pudding with spinach, artichoke and brie, and I made muscat poached apples with a muscat sabayon. It all went over very well, everything turned out fabulously. Except maybe the apples, but I don't like apples, so it was hard to tell. It turns out the sabayon wasn't exactly my idea of a good time, either. 15 minutes of frantic whisking of a sauce so delicate it could break at any second is so not fun. The coq au vin is fabulous.
