Last week I rushed home from work in a taxi more than once. Every day Bangsiri wags her tail for me—and lately, we cuddle in bed for a few minutes before I get up to prepare her medicine. Phoenix usually gets to the door first and can’t understand why I’m so eager to see her baby sister.
It was a rainy, rainy Friday and Saturday and Bangsiri and I spent many hours on buses and subways. I wanted to take her out to dinner in Gangnam on Friday night but we couldn’t find the restaurant while it was still open. The subway was dangerously crowded, the buses were slow, and a driver refused to stop for us. When we finally turned around to go home, it was late at night and she was panting even though I’d just given her some water.
I wasn’t sure if it could wait until morning so I looked for two 24-hour clinics whose numbers I’d programmed into my phone months ago. I couldn’t communicate well enough to find them on foot and all the taxis were full, so we went to a coffee shop to take a rest. I gave Bangsiri some water and she seemed better, so we waited a while and finally got a taxi home early Saturday morning.
I took her to Mari in the afternoon, but they can’t do anything for her because she’s on the maximum dose of medicine.
Even short walks are sometimes too much for Bangsiri and I have to pick her up after a few minutes. The rainy weather cut her walks even shorter last week. But yesterday morning she had a medium-length walk in her favourite park and she seemed stronger. Then in the afternoon she seemed weaker. I took her to the office for language exchange and my co-worker noticed she was tired. The room we were in had no fan or air conditioning, and she was panting. I took her home early and she seemed much better once we got back to our cool apartment—but I could tell she wasn’t herself when I cuddled her in bed after lunch.
By evening she was sitting up and following me around the apartment. She had a short walk after dark and she loved being out. I didn’t let her get too tired.
Bangsiri’s appetite picked up a little on Friday evening and Saturday morning, but she’s stubborn—often she’ll refuse to eat out of a bowl and will insist on being fed by hand. When we finally tried the new vegan restaurant in Gangnam on Saturday, I gave her a tiny taste of my lunch. (Most foods I like are too oily, salty and oniony for a tiny dog.) She ate a small French fry and some noodles, licked a piece of melon and ignored the lettuce I offered.
We had a very close call this morning. I put Bangsiri’s medicine in two capsules and offered her the first one in a bit of Recovery brand canned food. She turned her head away. I tried to hold her still and force the pill into her mouth, but she moves too quickly and is too tiny—there’s no way I can restrain her without hurting her.
Finally I tried more canned food, a new flavour made by a company called ANF. Bangsiri loved the new food. She ate both capsules and licked up all the loose powder. As I was getting it ready, Phoenix was getting ready to pounce on the table with the (meat-covered) capsule Bangsiri had just rejected. I pushed Phoenix off the chair just in time.
I love Bangsiri so much. Every night I thank her for spending another day with me and I tell her to keep fighting. I wish I could bring her to work, but the security guard might not let us in. He made an exception yesterday, but he warned me not to try it again.