Help!

 

It seems the season for looking after native mammals has arrived….

About ten days ago, a lady rang, asking was I still involved in animal care.  She explained that she had been given a joey, and all was going well till that day, when it woke with a wheeze, and coughing.  Could she bring it to me to see what I thought?  So she brought it round, and I didn’t even have to open the pouch to know that it would need veterinary assistance.  However, when I looked inside, this little head popped up, bright as a button!  Not at all what I expected from the sound effects…

Having dealt with this lady previously, I knew she was the sort that could cope with hard facts.  I told her it would need antibiotics, and that the vet wasn’t available until tomorrow in Rylstone.  Neither of us was available to take the little roo to Mudgee that afternoon, which would have been preferable.  I also discussed with her that the vet may think it kinder to put him to sleep, and she was fully aware that as she wasn’t able to take him to vet that afternoon, he may not survive the night.  She took that all on board, and we decided that she would take him home that night, and if he DID survive, she would bring him into me the next day, and I would take him to the vets, and if the vet thought he was treatable, I would care for him till he recovered, or whatever the outcome. 

She turned up the next morning with him, still as bright as a button, but still wheezing like a steam train;  you could hear him all over the house.  So I rang the vets and confirmed the appointment that I had provisionally made after the lady went home.  The time came, and we presented ourselves at the vets.  I had him wrapped up pretty well, and as soon as I opened up the pouch up popped his head again.  He looked around, checking things out, and responding to all the affection he was given.  The vet checked him out and decided with that attitude, we really HAD to give him a chance.  We all knew that there were no guarantees, but we just had to try. 

He was very dehydrated, seeing it was so difficult for him to drink, so the vet injected fluid under his skin.  He also organised him some antibiotics, and home we went, to start trying to feed him every two hours (not at night though…once I went to bed, so did he…). 

For the next few days he responded well to the treatment;  I was able to get him onto three hourly feeds.  The wheezing was improving very slowly;  there were times when he wasn’t wheezing at all, but it was still a battle….for him to drink, and for me to get enough into him…but I felt we were still in there with a chance….he was still bright and alert.  Every feed he would drink frantically for the first couple of minutes, then have to stop and have a rest, and a cough and splutter;  then another drink, and finally after he had been toiletted and cleaned up (there was always a lot of spray painting with milk happening) he would sit on my knee and look around for a few minutes before he would tumble down into his pouch and back to sleep.

Then on Saturday morning another lady rang, this time with a wombat.  It was hairless she said, but she had kept it warm all night.  She was looking for a carer for it.  The thoughts of taking on another little creature that needed 2 or 3 hourly feedings was just a bit much for my feeble brain…argh!  So I rang a friend in Mudgee, and explained the situation.  She said that she would take it, and either keep it herself and pass it onto another carer up there.

So arrangements were made for the wombat to come to me, and be picked up by the carer from Mudgee.  Just before the wombat was dropped off the Mudgee lady rang and said, I’m running late, I have to pick up two little roos on the way!  We both thought…..it’s started!….sigh….  She eventually arrived, had a quick cuppa, and took off with the wombat.

The next few days continued much the same, with him as bold as brass, but still wheezing, and being fed every three hours, with the occasional two hours between feeds whenever he didn’t take enough.  Tuesday I made another appointment at the vets, as I felt he needed reassessing and perhaps more antibiotics.  Wednesday, off to the vets again, where he charmed everyone, and apart from the wheezing, everyone wondered why on earth he was even at the vets.  He was given the once over, and given more antibiotics, as the chest infection wasn’t quite better.

Then, at the 8 pm feed, he only took a tiny amount.  I tried him again at 10, and he refused altogether.  I waited up till midnight, and tried again.  He still refused and this time by the time I put him back to bed, maybe 10 minutes, he was cold.  This started alarm bells with me, and stayed up till the heating pad had kicked in and warmed him right through.  I realised this could mean he wouldn’t make it through the night.  I awoke early, and could hear him wheezing, and went to check him.  He was still bright, but didn’t look as well.  I prepared his bottle, but he refused it so I just put him back to bed, and made him comfortable.  I knew I had done everything I could, and could only wait.  About an hour later I checked him, and he had passed away peacefully, in his sleep.  Later that day I took him out to a nice patch of bush, just out of town, where there were lovely trees, and birds were singing.  I lay him to rest at the base of one of the trees, and thought how peaceful he looked.  I said my goodbyes, and went home.  I was exhausted and needed a sleep!

However….there is no rest for the wicked, and I must be very wicked indeed.  The next day, I was having my breakfast, and the phone rang.  Yes, another panic stricken lady with a baby roo.  And yes, it is now here, but this time….it is a wallaroo…..a tiny Hell Joey.  Methinks this will be another story….