I had quite the scare this past holiday weekend. My dog, Yoda, was outside with me running around the yard as normal. Suddenly, she grabbed a flying insect in midair. Within minutes she started shaking her head and whining. She spit out a bee. I immediately took her inside and stuck an ice-cube in her mouth.
Soon after, I took Yoda back outside and closely observed her as I noticed her strangely lay down near our fence. I thought it unusual so I went to see if she was OK. I picked her up and put her on my lap. Then she started wheezing and went limp in my arms.
I attentively ran into the house and yelled to my husband, “Brad, we need to go to the emergency vet, now.”
We quickly jumped into our car and drove frantically two miles south to the 24 hour pet hospital. Along the way, she struggled to breathe and her eyes started fading. I held her and made sure she was breathing while getting ready to give her CPR. Brad drove like a maniac. We barely knew where the ER was located, but as we turned the corner it appeared. Yoda opened her mouth and lightly bit my cheek in an attempt to breathe. She was fading.
I frantically ran to the locked door and started pounding. A kid opened the door as I ran through with teary eyes.
“PLEASE HELP.” I cried as an assistant came out and calmly told me to wait a minute.
My husband ran in, looked at our dog and asked, “is she still breathing?”
I glanced into her eyes. She looked dead with eyes wide open, I panicked. Brad grabbed her and the doctor and forcefully said, “my dog is dying, NOW!”
In the mean time I had a mental breakdown in the hallway. Crying and shaking, I quickly collapsed to the floor. “Not my girl. Not now. Please.”
It seemed like a lifetime but soon after the assistant let us know she was alive and on oxygen and IV. We waited while filling out paperwork. They would keep her overnight for observation.
The doctor entered the waiting room, took a report and explained to me what was going on. My dog went into anaphylactic shock. Basically her respiratory system shut down as a result of the bee sting. She assured me that Yoda would likely be fine and that this kind of reaction to a bee sting was rare. Then she looked at my shirt and said, “wow, that’s odd.”
I glanced down and noticed I was wearing a shirt from a bar in St. Kitts that read, “Killer Bees.” Named after a drink they are famous for. I agreed with the vet and contemplated the coincidence. Odd.
Yoda is fine now. I follow her around and freak out at any flying object that approaches her. I need a plastic bubble and a muzzle to protect her unique allergy as well as an epi pen.