Two Hundred Dollar Tummy Ache

September 30, 2012

I vaguely remembered that Drake had tried to vomit through the night.  When I woke up I say a couple of spots that just looked wet.  It wasn't pee and didn't look like vomit.  I was due to change the sheets anyway, so just had to strip the sheets a little earlier than I had planned.

I noticed that he was moving a little slowly and when I tried to feed him breakfast, he didn't eat a kibble.  He lay around most of the morning and instead of worrying, I admit that this quieter version of my usually very busy boy was a nice change.

Just as I began to really get things done, he began to hack like he wanted to vomit.  All that came up was a little clear water, with the slightest tinge of red.  It looked like it could be blood.  I just couldn't be sure.  His mood was so somber, that I admit, I began to worry about him.  I thought, well I will just watch him.  I was beginning to think he must have eaten something that he was attempting to throw up. 

They had told me in prison to always pick up the stuffing out of his toys because he would eat them.  I had seen him attempt to eat his rubber toys and the squeakers that came out of them.  Now I starting making phone calls and describing his morning to friends.  One of my friends said that if I really thought that he might have eaten something, that the vet might be able to make him throw it up instead of having to remove it surgically.  I still hesitated until I saw him throw up tons of water.  I hadn't even seen him drink any, but it wasn't going down.  I called the vet and she was in, but of course it was Saturday and about 12 minutes after they closed.  I knew it would be an emergency call, but decided not to wait.

As the vet examined Drake, her urgency seemed to fade.  She said that he seemed fine, she didn't feel anything.  The dog didn't seem stressed.  I said let's take an ex ray, I just knew something was wrong.  As they left the exam room, for the ex ray room, I thought could it be something that poisoned him?  Around the corner they both came.  Dr. Moore said, "The only thing I see is an enormous amount of feces".   What?  He was vomiting and gaging.  She explained that some dogs get nauseous when they get constipated.  Did I want something for the nausea, she asked.  Yes, but for me.  Not for that dog with the little upset stomach from constipation.  I knew that just walking in the door was over one hundred dollars and it was sounding like a two hundred stomach ache to me. 

 

She gave him a shot for his nausea and I paid the bill.  As I put him in the car, my anger immediately turned to relief.  I was so happy that he was going to be fine.  She had suggested that I stop on the way home and get a little canned pumpkin for his food to help his "sticky" situation, so of course I did.  She said that he had to eat to get things moving.  He did and it did and I was relieved.  I looked at his odd little face when he was asleep, I recognized what I was feeling as love.  In spite of everything that was happening on a daily basis, and everything that I was sure would come, I loved the little bugger.  I also knew that as much as he would tear my world apart, that he would add so much to it.