Growing up I had two poodles, first the mother and then one of her puppies. They were kind of my dogs, but mostly belonged to my whole family. They both lived long lives and passed away before I graduated college. When I graduated, I moved back home for about a year and then decided to move into an apartment with a boyfriend. A few years later, I bought my own townhouse and at the age of 25 lived alone for the very first time in my life.
After going from my parent’s house with my three younger siblings, to a college dorm, to a shared apartment – my townhouse was so quiet that I didn’t know what to do with myself. Not to mention, after years of cleaning up after other people, I was totally confused when my house stayed neat all day long.
After about four months of living alone, I gave myself the best Christmas present in the world, Potter. At 11 weeks old, he weighed only four pounds and fit into one of my hands like a little fluffy guinea pig. I used to stick him inside my winter coat (with his head stuck out of my chest like a furry alien) whenever I went to visit my friends and family.
I loved him at first sight and he drove me crazy for about 2 years straight with his chewing (he ruined a kitchen table and four chairs, shoes, a baby gate, and so much more), his yappy barking, and the fact that he would leave little poop presents in the house *right after* I took him out for a walk.
He finally outgrew his terrible puppy stage and became a really awesome dog. Potter loves to perch himself on top of the couch and nap, get all crazy in my bed to pull the covers down and then snuggle himself in for awhile, and gnaw the crap out of a bone with a fierce look in his eyes. When I was dating, he’d make his feelings known about my boyfriend choices and picked Travis as his new dad the day he met him.
When I’m having a crappy day, the best thing is the world is when I get to snuggle up with my boys.
I woke up yesterday morning to the sound of Potter vomiting on the floor of my bedroom. I threw myself out of bed to get him on the bathroom floor, which is so much easier to clean up, but of course he was finished by that point. As I went through the house, it was like a horror movie. Potter had been sick (in one way or another) in every room of the house, probably about 15 times. And all in the hour between when my husband left for work and I awoke.
When I took him to the vet, they examined him and took a bunch of samples. It seemed like he was feeling better, until he decided to leave a little present on the exam room floor. At that moment, the vet determined that he was severely dehydrated and was deteriorating quickly. He recommended that he go to the animal hospital so that they could hook him up to an IV as soon as possible.
While waiting for them to finish with the blood tests and finalize the paperwork for us to go to the animal hospital, the tears started. Potter’s isn’t even 8 years old yet and I can’t imagine losing him yet. I called my husband at work and he was able to leave early to go with us to the animal hospital.
While Travis drove, I sat with Potter on my lap tried to keep from freaking out. As if I needed yet another reason to love my husband, when I mentioned that the cost of the animal hospital was most likely going to be very high, he said that it didn’t matter and we’d spend as much as it takes.
Once we arrived at the animal hospital, the vet on call examined Potter again and agreed that they should start him on an IV and keep him overnight. She said that it was possible that he might be much better by the next day, but if he wasn’t they would do x-rays and also check his pancreas.
When she took Potter away, I tried as hard as I could to keep from crying. I just couldn’t shake the thought that I might not ever see my dog alive again.
Of course, the harder you try not to cry, the more you end up sobbing. After we completed all the necessary paperwork, they let us visit Potter before we left. When we went back to see him, the sounds of all of the other dog’s whining and the look on my dog’s face as we had to leave just about broke my heart.
My husband had to work last night, so I sat at home in my quiet house and tried to hope for the best. Needless to say, there was a lot of tossing and turning involved.
I am so thrilled to say that this story has a happy ending. We received a call from the hospital vet this morning saying that we could pick Potter up this afternoon. After 24 hours on an IV, he was doing so much better. They don’t really know what was wrong with him, but apparently some dogs just end up getting a really bad stomach bug for no reason.
He has to take an antibiotic for the next few days, and also has a special diet to follow. Ironically, I spent more time tonight making Potter’s special meal then I did on my own food for the past few days.
Potter is super happy to be home, but I think he’s getting kind of sick of me randomly grabbing him to pet him. I don’t care though, I’m so happy that I get more time with my furry little son that I’m going to snuggle the crap out of him until he finds a better hiding place!