Saturday, December 3, 2011

And Then the Dog Exploded


So last night, Jack got really sick. And we didn't realize it. I am a horrible pet owner.

Justin and I have been slightly distracted lately, what with his working about 900 hours a week and my having pneumonia and pretty much not doing a thing around here for three weeks. Last night, we were almost having a normal evening. We watched a little television; Justin went to bed; I worked on a Christmas gift until about 1:00 a.m. The dog didn't make a peep all evening, but some unfortunate smells were emanating from his rear end. I should have known.

After I went to bed, he started to bark. He'd bark. Justin would go downstairs and tell him to stop. He took him outside to see if he needed to go potty. I went downstairs at 4:00 a.m. and finally drugged him. We thought the neighbor's Christmas lights that move were annoying him. They're annoying me, so why not the dog?

Justin got up around 7:00 after not so much sleep and came down to walk the dog. The dog whimpered while he was putting on his shoes and then it happened. He couldn't hold what he had been holding all night. Thank God we have hardwood floors.

We had given him a little too much people food in the last three days and his poor tummy got upset. It's sensitive that way and if we're not careful, he ends up not feeling good because he is such a beggar and we can't resist those big brown eyes. I guess we were a little bit too generous (although we didn't give him any of the chicken enchiladas, so I thought we were doing okay) because apparently he had to let go before Justin could get him outside. And he must have really needed to go because he is mortified when he has an accident. He's good that way.

Justin got everything cleaned up by the time I came downstairs at 8:00, totally groggy. But I could smell the poop. Hey, it's all about the poop, right? Justin had cleaned the floor, opened the windows to let some (freezing) fresh air in, and turned on the fireplace so it wasn't arctic winter in the family room.

The poor dog. I drugged him when what he needed was to get outside to go potty. His tummy was upset and I didn't realize it. I feel like the worst pet owner ever.

He seems to be recovering. I cooked him some hamburger and rice, which is his upset tummy food prescribed by the vet. I carried ice cubes to him on his bed so he wouldn't get dehydrated. I contemplated calling the vet to come take a look at him, but decided to wait out his hangover and see if he got back on his feet. He's been acting a little stoned all day, but he seems to be coming around.

Meanwhile, we spent the afternoon replacing the curtains at our front door with that window film that is absolutely impossible. It took way longer than it should have, although I should have known it was going to because Justin told me it would and he's usually right about these things.

So now we have a dog that seems to be recovering and window film that blocks people from seeing into and out of the door. The lights will still shine through, but hopefully every time the neighbor brings her yappy, hyperactive puppy (Thor? Really?) out to go potty in their front yard, Jack won't see him and start going nuts. Hopefully he'll stop barking at every car that drives by. Anything that moves, he barks. We don't like barking. It's aggravating and it's a behavior that I would like to get him to stop, but I don't know how to train a dog to not do something. I've tried talking to him about it and being reasonable, but he won't listen. I guess the instinct to bark at dust motes in the air is just stronger than rationale from the woman with the treats.

Meantime, I am pretty much fully recovered to my own "normal," after three weeks of hardly being able to move and not knowing what the hell was wrong with me. I got overwhelmed by the blogosphere and thought I wouldn't be able to write again after writing a post I thought was funny as hell, but Justin and Ben both said, "meh." You can't be funny all the time and it's been a bad year.

I went out about 24 hours after starting the second antibiotic and grabbed myself a Kindle fire (which I may never see again because Joey discovered how many free games are on it), worked on my sewing, and decided to make a homemade pie. I know, right?

I may be blogging less in the immediate future, but I hope you'll come back and read when I do. I'm just kind of wiped out and we're going through a very hard time. Grieving is hard. Sometimes God isn't fair and has a warped sense of humor. I wonder how we're going to get through Christmas, but I figure the earth will keep turning regardless of what we are going through, so we'll make it somehow.

Thanks for being patient.




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