I have been home the past 2 days with a sick puppy.
On Sunday, Wilzie gave Maya a bit of leftover steak with her dinner. We both know that she has a sensitive stomach, but usually a bit of a treat doesn’t cause her too much trouble.
We got our first whiff that something was wrong as we watched TV that night.
Question: Is there anything worse than dog farts?
Answer: Not when wave after wave of them pass under your nose every couple of minutes.
As Wilzie and I groaned and covered our faces, we judged Maya’s expression to be “What? I’m a dog!”, not recognizing that it was actually, “I can’t help it, my tummy hurts”.
When I got home from work on Monday I discovered just how much her tummy hurt.
She pooped all over the basement.
As awful as this is for me, I can’t help but feel bad for my dog; she is a good dog and doesn’t have accidents in the house. She also never goes into the basement, because it is very difficult for her to go up and down the stairs. So I can only imagine her emotional turmoil of (A) not being able to hold it until I got home, and (B) to try to get as far away from our living space as possible, she forced herself down the stairs despite the pain it causes her.
Don’t get me wrong – it was no day at the beach for me either.
We spent the rest of the evening going back and forth into the yard when ever the feeling hit her – which if did often. I also had to get up twice through the night to let her out.
Did I mention that Wilzie was out of town?
I didn’t like leaving her alone the next morning and I was scared to think about what I might come home to, so after putting in appearance at work, I rushed back home. I was happy to see that she had finally stopped pooping, but she had stopped doing everything else as well; when I walked in the door, she looked up at me, but didn’t even lift her head to greet me.
This worried me.
When I went into the kitchen to make myself lunch and sat down to eat it, she couldn’t even get up the strength to drool.
This worried me a lot.
She was lethargic for most of the night and when I woke up on Wednesday morning, I could hear her breathing all the way from her bed in the living room. When I got up to feed her, she was still extremely sluggish and apathetic.
I am a worrier at heart, and without Wilzie here to balance me out, my nails were chewed down to the nub and I was pacing back and forth, near tears, sure that my poor puppy was dying. When Wilzie called, he reminded that every single time in the past that I was sure the dog was dying, we took her to the vet and found out that she was just fine.
So I called the vet for an opinion, and they told me nothing, “We can’t really say without seeing her…” They also can’t charge us a few hundred dollars to tell us she’ll be fine over the phone.
So I booked an appointment for later today with the hopes that I can cancel it due to a miraculous recovery.
She did perk up, and look almost like her usual self, when it was getting close to dinner time though. It really is amazing how much she is like me; lounge around all day, doing as little as possible, and only the promise of food can motivate
me her in to action.
It’s nice to see, if nothing else, she’s still got her priorities straight.
Apparently Maya is a lot like me. As soon as Wilzie walked in the door last, our puppy jumped up and ran to the door to meet him. She spent the rest of the evening laying on her bed, alert, and staring at her Daddy with a big smile on her face.
As annoying as that is, I am just thankful she seems better, whatever the reason.