Ever since I was knee high, my one wish was to have a dog. Yea, sure I had a few "adopted" ones. Duke, my aunt's dashchund. Blackie, my neighbour's mongrel. And a few strays here and there.

But my very own.

On February 17, I brought one home.



Her name is Bessy, and she is a female Rottweiler.

Bad luck soon followed. Or, as I choose to see it, a test of how much I really want and love a dog.

Bessy had a bad case of diarrhea. She would poop milkshake poop at least 6 times a day. Cleaning it was a bitch (pun!) and soon became a nightmare.

About a week after homecoming, Bessy began vomiting. I rushed her to the vet's, together with a (milkshake) stool sample.

Her stool sample tested positive for Coccidea (a parasite that attacks the intestine walls, causing diarrhea, vomiting and loss of appetite) and blood sample showed her positive for tick fever (which causes parasites to multiply and eat her red blood cells and platelets).

The vet's gave his prognosis, while shaking his head rather gravely: Guarded.

I held her tight as the vet took her blood for testing.

I held her tight as the kind doctor gave her jabs.

I held her tight as the nurse force-fed her tablets and hooked her up to an IV Drip.

I held her tight as I carried her to her "hospital bed" - a cage in the vet's hospital.

I told her I would gladly clean up all the poop she wishes to poop, as long as she gets better, stronger and happier. And let me bring her home.

I'm glad to say she has agreed to my request: She's getting better by the day.

See ya soon, Bessy!