I Love My Pets But This Is Ridiculous
May, 2008
I’ve got to tell you my latest dog story. Oreo is about 35 pounds, not very big. And for all of her thirteen years, she’s always been very healthy. Until Friday.
On Friday, she threw up. I found the watery stuff in the kitchen by stepping in it, of course, but I actually remained calm. “Poor thing,” I thought. “She’s never sick.”
I cleaned it up and WENT BACK to my breakfast. Then I left to go brush my teeth.
On my way by the living room, I saw her throwing up again. More watery stuff. My heart sank. And then I saw that she had two other watery puddles nearby. Stay calm, I told myself. I stepped into the room to remove her and saw that she’d also thrown up some heavy duty stuff–all over the couch. Now the panic was rising. Then I turned around and saw more heavy duty stuff running underneath the chair.
I crumpled. I whimpered. I pleaded to wake up from a bad dream. No such luck.
The boys were just waking up about that time. “Mom?” they called down the stairs. “What’s wrong?” They thought someone had died. I wished I could have.
Now I have trouble dealing with puke to begin with and here it was all over the living room. Then we have that old wood floor with the cracks between the boards…
…you get the picture, I’m sure.
The boys crept down the stairs and peeked into the living room. Bless their hearts, they quietly gathered up rags and buckets and cleaners, and helped me clean it all up. All but the couch. That thing is history.
And the dog has been removed to her outdoor kennel. Indefinitely.
I know why Oreo’s been so healthy all these years. She was saving it up–for Friday.
