A Very Dog Mom Mother's Day
One of my favorite conversation topics with one of my work gal pals is baby or dog, where we compare how similar sounding the actions of my dog and her young children are. This will probably dissipate when the kids learn to talk in full sentences, but while they're in the nonverbal pooping, puking, ruining everything of material value stage it works perfectly. If she or I describes something that sounds like it could have happened in both animal and human kind, we say baby or dog. What we haven't done yet is write down these stories and see how many people can guess if the story is a baby or dog. All you trivia people - give us a call. We have some gems!
This weekend was the definition of a baby or dog weekend. We took advantage of the beautiful weather Friday night and had a picnic at Voinovich Park, one of my favorite places in the city. There were prom-goers, spring formal-goers and this wedding:
Yes, the bride is wearing an orange dress and it was beautiful.
Most importantly, we were outside. Woody enjoyed a good bone, we had sushi and wine. All was well. We only went inside to watch Game 3 of the Cavs vs. Bulls series (I don't want to talk about it) and then we went back outside for another hour or so. We went to bed around 1:30 only to be awakened by a crying dog at 4. He never wakes me up that early, so I had a suspicion something was up. I took him out (there were a surprising number of people out at 4 a.m. on a Saturday), he went, we came back in, no big deal. False. He would not get into bed and all of a sudden started puking up I don't even know what. I think there were sticks? Maybe some dirt? I don't know, it was dark, and I was half asleep. I laid down with him on the floor but he just could not get comfortable. Around 6 he needed to go out again (he's puked 3 times at this point), and then we retreated to the living room so if he had to get sick he could at least do it in the kitchen. Long story short, he had no appetite for food or for a walk - we got two blocks and he just stopped. So I carried him home and took him to the vet - West Park Animal Hospital. They are not my normal vet but they were the only ones who could get us in and they were fantastic.
Thankfully, nothing serious was wrong. This dog is the ultimate scavenger and has eaten WAY worse things than a few sticks, yet never has stomach problems, so whatever he picked up must have been horrible. He was given an antibiotic, the dog equivalent of Pepto, an IV with fluids and a 3-day diet of chicken and rice. Also, when dogs get dehydrated and need fluids, they get this big lump of water somewhere on their body while it flushes through, which was news to me. Woody's looked like a boob.
He was back to normal by Saturday night, and I am super thankful this wasn't something life-threatening. I know not all dogs with stomach emergencies aren't so lucky. But, the moment really reminded me how dogs are worth the sacrifice - of sleep, of plans, of money. Dogs and children are not the same, even when their mannerisms are, but they are both so deserving of love because they give unconditional love in return. This face just screams "promise I'll make it up to you!"
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I'm just a twenty-something female raising the weirdest dog I've ever met.