Mister Peepers’ Big Day

A true story about a man, his dog, and what brings their relationship to a whole new level.

The following comic is 100% true. Also, it will probably freak out anyone who doesn’t appreciate the weirdness of being a dog owner. Below the comic is a full explanation of Zeke’s recent health issue.

If you’ve been following my comics, you’ve then read that in September, my dog Zeke had a dire health emergency. We knew his liver was in poor condition due to his breed, but we were unprepared for his sudden decline.

It all started on a Tuesday morning. I woke up at 6 a.m., did my workout, and then prepared to take a shower. Right as I was about to step into the tub, I noticed there was a big half-dollar-sized deadly Brown Recluse spider climbing around in it.

This freaked me out. I ran out of the bathroom and threw on some clothes. I then went back into the bathroom to trap our eight-legged pest under a glass and take it outside away from the house.

When I returned to the house, that’s when I noticed Zeke had thrown up all over the couch. He continued to throw up the rest of the day. He stopped eating, developed tremors, and became extremely lethargic.

I was concerned, so I made an appointment with our vet, and he was seen two days later. Meanwhile, Zeke refused all food or water.

When the vet appointment arrived, it proved useless. We unfortunately chose a vet that is part of a private equity-owned, basic pet care facility that lacks adequate diagnostic capabilities and emergency preparedness.

The most that the place could do was prescribe an antibiotic, a painkiller, and an appetite stimulant. Since Zeke was showing signs of severe anemia and possible jaundice, the vet suggested we go to an animal hospital for full testing on what was going on with him. The next day, we took him to the Pet ER.

The vet there performed a round of blood tests along with an expensive ultrasound test. Other than showing how anemic Zeke was, everything was inconclusive. The vet thought Zeke might have a type of lymphoma cancer, but would need further tests to prove that.

I told the vet that we found a spider in our house on the same day Zeke’s illness began. However, the vet examined him and found no signs of a bite, so they did not believe the spider was responsible for his condition.

The veterinarian suggested conducting costly tests, such as biopsies, instead. However, I figured if this was the last dance for Zeke, so be it. I wasn’t going to submit the poor little guy to more trauma if all it was going to do was prove the cause of his oncoming demise.

Instead, I asked the vet for more pain and appetite stimulant meds, and would make him as comfortable as possible.

Due to his lack of nourishment, Zeke lost about 2 pounds, which is a lot off a 20 lb. dog. He also had difficulty walking and had zero strength at jumping, even though he’d try, only to land with a thud on his side and scare my wife and me half to death.

I then spent much of my time trying to get him to at least drink water and try eating food, any food. I spent a lot of money on various foods, desperately trying to find something he would eat.

Thank goodness for that appetite stimulant the vet gave us. Sure, it was a growth hormone and could make a cancer accelerate, but it worked well at getting Zeke back to eating. We began with small 2-ounce servings of baby food, licked directly from my hand. I considered that eating out of my hand was probably Zeke’s way of seeking comfort as he felt lousy.

This went on for about a week. Gradually, he began to eat more and more. I transitioned him to a soft dog food, primarily consisting of gravy, made by Nulo. The following week, he began to regain his appetite without the stimulant. He began rebuilding his strength, but remained unsteady and often overestimated his jumping abilities. Thud from the bed. Thud from the couch. I admired his determination, even if it was nearly suicidal.

At week seven of Zeke’s recovery, I noticed a healing wound on his tail.

No doubt about it. The wound displayed all the characteristic signs of a necrotic bite from a Brown Recluse spider.

It takes about eight weeks, if treated in time, for a small animal to recover from the bite of a Brown Recluse. Luckily, the antibiotic the vet gave us for any infection she thought he might had, also stemmed the bite necrosis and venom from further deadly effects.

However, it was also on the seventh week of recovery when Zeke deemed himself healthy enough to do a “wellness” check on Mister Peepers.

Being only 80% back to normal is what we think caused his little rocket to stay deployed, or as my wife likes to call it, “a visit from Mister Peepers.” The technical term for what Zeke experienced is Paraphimosis. It can have serious complications for a dog and most times requires a trip to the ER.

Overall, the last eight weeks have been traumatic for Zeke, my wife, and me. For a few weeks, we were despondent over the possible demise of our little fur baby. We talked about what Zeke has brought into our lives and what we’d miss about hm. We also started planning for where we’d bury him in the yard.

And now he’s pretty much back to normal as we chase him around that same yard, in a desperate attempt to quell any long-term visits by Mister Peepers.

Crazy.

On a related note, spraying sugar water at, or applying lube to, your dog’s penis brings a relationship with your dog to a new, much weirder level.

As for going back to my local pharmacy and being tagged as some kind of beast-abusing freak after declaring that the lube was for my dog (oh, that was fun.), my friend Brian calmed my fears by saying, “At least you weren’t also buying peanut butter with the lube.”

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A note about the comic

Lately, I’ve been reading and admiring the works of Jules Feiffer, which offered a lot of help in how to tackle this crazy tale. Feiffer was a master at comic reductionism, cutting out all the fluff and getting right to the guts of a story. No frames. No backgrounds. Just characters and dialog. That seemed the best way to approach this, so thanks for the guidance, Mister Feiffer.