Lily resting on her ottoman with her head tilted, looking at me — part of her healing week story

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Lily’s Corner Beauty Salon Drama And Brave Nights

🐾✨ From Spa Day Panic to Healing Nights

Lily’s Corner: One Unexpected Spa Day and a Whole Lot of Love

A simple spa day turned my calm morning into a crime scene on white bedding, a fierce mama bear meltdown, and a fight to rebuild my tiny Maltese’s blood. Welcome to Lily’s Corner, where platelet crashes, bubble wrap care, and a love stronger than fear live side by side.

🐾✨ Spa Drama, Bruises & Bits (And How We Survived It)

Lily knows the words: “Let’s go to the spa!” Just the mention of it sends her spinning in excited circles, tiny paws tapping our legs, eyes bright because she knows exactly what comes next — pampering, belly rubs, and a treat for being the fluffiest princess in the building.

One ordinary day, we did just that — spa day, pick-up, cookie, cuddles. Everything seemed normal.

But the next morning, I woke up to what looked like a mild crime scene on my crisp white bedding.

I was so confused. I didn’t even think of Lily at first — I was convinced Gar or I had a nosebleed, or something terrible had happened to us. Seriously bewildered, I checked myself, then Gar. Nothing.

Meanwhile, Lily did her usual — she rolled over for her morning tummy rub like the princess she is… and that’s when I saw it: raw, red marks all over her beautiful pink belly. I saw red too — and not just on my sheets.

My heart sank.

Without any hesitation, it was pure instinct (from where, I have no idea) — but in full tears and full fury, I called the groomer and said words that can never be unsaid:

“I’m coming down there. I want the groomer to drop his pants and I’m going to shave his bits until they bleed, just like he did to my Lily. How could this happen?!”

Not my normal conflict resolution style. But Lily is my whole heart wrapped in white fur.

The Vet Visit & the Floor Falling Out

I rushed her straight to the vet, repeating my “shave his bits” speech and ranting about razors. My vet just remained calm — patient, gentle, maybe quietly worried I might turn my fury on her too.

She quietly started her exam, moving from Lily’s hind legs to her paws, then to her ears, then her gums. Gums? Are you serious? It’s her belly! I wanted to scream. I actually blurted it out: “It’s her belly!”

But she just kept going, gently pulling back Lily’s eyelids, checking her pupils. My rage was peaking, but I bit my lip, trying so hard not to come completely undone.

“Please check her tummy…”

It felt like forever. Finally, she nodded to her technician to lift Lily up. She glanced at her belly, then slowly parted the fur on her ribs and back. What felt like forever stretched into a hush that made my insides quake — and then she quietly said:

“Becky… this isn’t razor burn. She’s bruised. All over.”

All I could think was Oh my God — someone at the groomer mishandled her. My entire insides were trembling. Then came the words that made my heart sink even deeper:

“We need to do some bloodwork.”

Swallowing hard and giving Lily the biggest hug of reassurance, I nodded, numb, and handed her over. Watching them carry her out of the room felt like watching my heartbeat walk away. I sat there alone in that cold room, tears stinging, forcing myself not to break apart right there.

I called Mr. Squeeze — my rock when I’m nothing but raw edges — and shakingly said, “Please come. I can’t do this alone.” He dropped everything and rushed to sit next to me while we waited.

When the vet returned, she explained: Lily’s platelets — the tiny Band-Aids that stop bruising — had crashed. Her body was basically bleeding inside. She spoke gently, but the words might as well have been in bold neon: platelet crash, possible transfusion, ten to twelve thousand dollars.

That was it — my brain shut out everything else. All I could think was: How did this happen? Is she hurting? What if I lose her? My eyes were locked on Lily — so small, so unnaturally still, so completely helpless — and every part of me would have traded places with her just to see her stand up and wiggle her tail again.

Thank God for Mr. Squeeze. He stayed rock-solid, asked every question I couldn’t form, and held the calm I’d lost while, in my head, I was already tallying up what I could sell: my camera, the lenses, the bags, my Vespa… none of it mattered when it came to my little Lil Bill.

We didn’t have all the answers yet — but we had a plan, a tiny handful of meds, and each other to carry her back home and figure out the rest, one quiet breath at a time.

Bringing Her Home to Heal

We brought her home wrapped in blankets and hope, with two little bottles — Prednisone and Doxycycline — tiny but powerful, and our only plan to help her tiny body fight back.

The vet gave us clear instructions: meds twice a day. Keep her safe. Think “bubble wrap” — no jumping, no stairs, no rough play.

If only she knew Lily. My girl is a gymnast — her favorite routine is launching from the ottoman to the back of the chair to sun herself like a tiny lion queen. But not that week. This platelet crash came out of nowhere and knocked the bounce right out of her. She didn’t even try to jump. She just curled up in a ball and slept. And slept. And slept. So many times I would just put my hand on her tummy to feel her breath moving in and out, a quiet rhythm that made me feel better.

What I did hold onto, thanks to my Mr. Squeeze gently reminding me when my brain shut down the minute I heard platelet crash, was this, in plain words:

✔ Her red blood is fine.
✔ Her organs are fine.
✔ Her platelets, the tiny Band-Aids, are gone.
✔ It could be her immune system attacking itself or a hidden tick bite (the tests say no, but we don’t take chances).

And so began day one of healing: gentle meds, whispered prayers, and my hand on her side, willing my strength into her tiny bones.

A Blessing in Disguise

Once Lily was settled, I knew I had an important call to make: I had to call the groomer. I was so embarrassed — in the midst of my confusion and panic, I’d even gone so far as to tally up the cost of my sheets, pillows, and everything I thought had been ruined in my rage spiral after seeing all that blood.

I swallowed hard and dialed, bracing myself for anger on the other end. But when they answered, I was met with nothing but genuine concern for Lily and love wrapped in grace.

I poured it all out: her platelets had crashed, I was so sorry for my frantic accusations and threats — I’m not proud of how fierce my mama bear mode can get. Seeing my baby girl’s belly like that just flipped a switch.

The groomer listened and forgave me without hesitation. “Anyone would have reacted the way you did,” they said gently. For a moment, I honestly doubted that — but I let myself believe it.

And yes, if you’re wondering: we still trust them completely. They love Lily just as much as we do, and to this day they handle her with an extra dose of patience and tender care — love turned all the way up.

So in the strangest twist, what felt like a disastrous spa day and a meltdown I’m still embarrassed about turned out to be the blessing that most likely saved her life.

The First Hard Week — Bubble Wrap, Fierce Panting, & Pee Pads

That first week, her panting was fierce. No matter what I did, I couldn’t fully soothe her, so I sat. I sat beside her while she slept in short bursts, my hand on her side, whispering the same words over and over: “You’ll be okay.” Maybe I was just trying to convince myself.

She’d sleep maybe an hour, then wake up panting for water. I kept a tiny stainless steel ketchup cup on my nightstand, filled with icy cold water from my Yeti, ready to pour for her whenever she needed it.

I still don’t know how her eight-pound belly held what felt like twenty ounces in the middle of the night. She never once wet the bed, but every morning, her pee pad was soaked like a little pond.

Her appetite soared too, thanks to the steroids. She drank and peed like a tiny Saint Bernard, always calm and patient while her little body worked overtime to fight and heal.

Lily, the princess that she is, still prefers her soft pee pad to the cold grass outside. Maybe it’s her Maltese dignity. Maybe girls just don’t like muddy feet. Either way, it’s one less thing to fuss over when her body is working so hard.

💛 A Love Letter for Lily’s Health

Feeling useless in those long, panting nights, I wrote her this love note — a whisper from my heart to hers, wishing I could take her pain so she could finally sleep easy.

My little Lil Bill,

If I could lift this illness from your little body and place it in mine, I would. I’d carry every ache, every breathless pant, just to hear you grrr and see you flop your lobster. I see how strong you are and how even in your tiniest sighs and restless pants, how mighty your tiny body is.

You’re my heartbeat in fur, my little light. Keep sleeping above my pillow and wake me up as much as your body needs. I promise I’ll be right here, loving you with every ounce of who I am. I’ll happily give you ice cold water in your tiny stainless steel ketchup cup, so it’s icy cold just like you like it. I pray your little body finds rest tonight, and when you sleep, I’ll whisper to the stars for you for quick healing.

You are not alone, and you never will be.

Feeding Her Back to Life

When everything felt out of control, I focused on what I could do: feed her healing body well. Tiny bits of fresh liver (just a sprinkle, because too much is too rich). Soft-cooked carrots. Sweet potatoes mashed just right. And homemade treats that make her tail wiggle — even on days she doesn’t feel strong enough to do much more than nap in her sunbeam.

Today, I’m making her a fresh batch of these simple beefy bites — and if your pup could use an extra bit of homemade love, here’s how to make them too:

🍖 Lily’s Simple Beefy Bites (Homemade Dog Treats)

Ingredients:

1 pound lean ground beef
1 egg
1/2 cup cooked sweet potato, mashed
1/4 cup oat flour (or finely ground oats)
Optional: pinch of turmeric for anti-inflammatory goodness

How To:

Preheat oven to 325°F (175°C).
Mix ground beef, egg, sweet potato, oats, and turmeric in a bowl.
Roll into marble-sized balls.
Place on parchment-lined baking sheet and flatten slightly with a fork.
Bake 20-25 minutes or until cooked through and slightly golden (keep an eye on them).
Cool completely. Store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 5 days, or freeze in batches.

One or two of these brings back that spark in her eyes.

👉 Want to switch things up? Try swapping the mashed sweet potato for pumpkin puree or plain cooked carrot! Just keep it simple and pup-friendly. Remember: always check with your vet if you’re unsure about new ingredients. And give your royal taste tester an extra ear scratch from us. 💕 Happy baking, happy tails! 👑🐶

💛 A Love Stronger Than Fear

Three weeks in, her platelets are back where they should be. Her white cells are still a bit high, but we’re hopeful they’ll settle soon. She’s gained a few extra pounds (thank you, steroids and homemade beefy bites!), so for now she waits at the couch like a tiny queen, blinking patiently for her personal human elevator to lift her up.

No wild zoomies yet, but her eyes are bright, her tail still wiggles for treats, and my heart is lighter every single day she’s here beside me. She’s getting used to her homemade treats in the kitchen, and she’s still finding her favorite sunbeams, warming her little body nap by nap. And yes — she’s still bossing me around for more cookies (and of course, I cave every single time).

If you’re reading this with worry in your chest for your own fur baby, please know: the bond you have is real. It’s stronger than the fear, the sleepless nights, and the vet bills. Trust that quiet voice in your heart — you know them better than anyone. If something feels off, it probably is. And sometimes, it’s enough just to sit in the dark and whisper, “You’ll be okay.”

And most importantly… no more threats to shave anyone’s bits (for now) — but just know: if you come for my Lily, the razor is always within reach. 😉

🐶💛 With all our love,
Becky & Lily the Soft-Bellied Queen

P.S. If you’d like a peek at Lily’s favorite pee pads and the little things we used to keep her world cozy and calm, I’ve gathered them here. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases (at no extra cost to you).