Despite everything I did to ensure that I stayed well, even though those around me were toppling like a house of cards set upon a charge of dynamite, I woke up Saturday morning with a scratchy throat. I don't think I have it as bad as many others, and I am feeling better already, but I still have an ugly sounding cough.
So I decided to pamper myself on Tuesday and Wednesday by sleeping in and going to work late. I worked late on Monday, so the 6 1/2 hours I worked on Tuesday was not going suck too many of my vacation hours (I have quite a few on the books), and I figured I was worth it to kick this cold out of my life.
At 7:45 Wednesday morning I am awakened by DSD rushing into the bedroom.
"I am so sorry to wake you, I really hate to do this, I am so sorry, but really, wake up. Lola pooped (yes, we say poop at our house), I cleaned her up, I cleaned up her crate, I fed her, but then she (insert your favorite gagging noise here) threw up all over the carpet. I am so sorry to wake you up like this."
Now you have to understand that DSD is not, normally, a baby about bodily functions, or anything else for that matter. He did an expert job of doctoring my poor, beleaguered bottom and he was a Navy hard hat diver for 22 years (the ones who pull dead bodies out of the water), but the poor man CAN NOT handle vomit. He is what I call a "sympathetic puker," kind of like Dolly Parton in Steel Magnolias, "I have a firm rule that no one shall cry alone in my presence," DSD has a firm rule that no one shall puke alone in his presence. You know that commercial with the baby (it may be e*trade) on the computer talking about trading stocks? At the end of one the baby spits up a little, DSD is almost sick every time.
So I didn't fuss at him. I got out of bed to find Lola in her crate and an enormous pile of dog food in the middle of the floor.. on the carpet, of course. I got the pile into the trash and was attempting to get the spot out of the carpet when the poor baby threw up in her crate. So, I moved her to the back porch (screened, nothing for her to get into) and starting cleaning up her crate. Unfortunately I was very worried about dehydration at this point and gave her a large bowl of water. Not the best idea in the world when the poor puppy's belly is empty.
So she threw up again and again and again. Luckily, mostly on the concrete, but by this time, I was VERY worried. I called work to let them know I may not be in (oh, boy is that going to be an interesting post) and then called the vet. It was 8:28 by then; the vet opens at 8:30. I jumped in the shower, DSD called the vet when they opened and loaded Lola's crate into the back of the trunk and loaded Lola into the crate and off we went.
Did you know that sago palms are POISONOUS for dogs?
Well, I didn't. But the sago palm is gone from the back yard. Thank goodness we never got around to planting it in the yard and it was still in its pot. Laziness wins one!
We are not sure if that was the culprit or not. She was given drugs (shots and pills). More rice. Ice cubes instead of water. (She loves loves loves ice cubes, so this was a special treat for her, because she likes to eat them on the carpet leaving little puddles of water everywhere.) This morning she had a little dog food mixed with the rice and actual water. When I talked to DSD about lunchtime he said they had played fetch for about 5 minutes before she needed a nap.
She seems to be on the mend, but cross your fingers that we don't have another emergency with her anytime soon. She is still a baby (7 1/2 months old) and her poor body can't take too much of this.
I sat on the floor last night to pet her, turned toward her and found myself looking straight into her eyes! She's huge. And my "should reach about 45 pounds" puppy is topping the scale at just under 61.