Sunday, May 8, 2011

Lesson 52: As Sick as a Dog

Eloise had an unexpected turn of events this weekend and I switched up my intended Mother's Day Post.  My life's greatest accomplishments, Natalie, Ellen, and Sam are the perfect topics for a Mother's Day post, no doubt.  I could write a book about life's lessons learned from my own mother and would love to share her funny nuggets of wisdom (Helenisms I call them) with you today.  But is was my fourth child, my biracial daughter that put an arrow through my heart this weekend and gets recognition on today's post--my black lab Josie. 

Josie is not laying at my feet, snoozing to the clicking of the keyboard as she usually does when I write.  She's in the Animal Hospital with an acute case of doggie pancreatitis.  Our van turned into a makeshift ambulance this morning when my husband made a quick trip through the city to get her there.  Josie began vomiting Thursday and worsened as the week went on.  By last night she was unable to hold down even a few laps of water for more than 30 seconds.  She could no longer stand on her legs by morning.  Josie was truly, "sick as a dog."

That got Eloise a-thinkin' about the origin of that saying, "sick as a dog."  In a quick internet search, and I mean quick because I was busy asking Mr. Google about "pancreatitis in dogs", some claim to have traced the term back to 17th century England.  Apparently when the Brits are under the weather with just a little malady like the sniffles, they are "ill."  The term "sick" is used when vomiting is involved.  I don't know if that is still the case or not, but it makes sense.  Eloise just may shoot a quick e-mail off to Willie and Cate and see if that is true.  The prince and princess are making themselves a bit more accessible to the public than their predecessors, so maybe one of them will answer me.  Cate was spotted grocery shopping the other day, you know.

If you are a dog lover such as myself, you know the pain of watching a furry friend suffer.  Although our canine companions cannot speak our language, they speak to you with their eyes, and I could see her pain and distress in Josie's.  There was nothing more to do at 4:00 am besides lay with her and wait until morning.  I drug my sleeping bag out to the kitchen floor and spooned her, my arm draped over her swollen side.  Her whimpers ceased and her breathing slowed a bit.  We were both able to sleep for at least a little while.

Crazy you say?  Obviously pets aren't viewed the same way in Slovenia.  Americans reading this blog get me.  My pet has become part of my family and yes, I do feel like her mother.  She was the easiest birth I ever had. 

So my original blog idea flew right out the window with all of my Mother's Day plans.  I was too (sad, worried, depressed, guilt ridden--you choose the verb because any apply) to head out for our planned family bike ride this morning or brave the Peach Street traffic for a mall invasion with the girls.  Writing about your worries is a form of "venting", so I am beginning to feel better already and recognizing that Josie is in good hands--so maybe this afternoon you'll catch us pedaling around.

But for the most part, it has been a lazy day for me, not as productive or "happy memory making" as I had hoped.  But a lazy day every once in awhile is OK, I've recently learned.  Not every single second needs to be filled with doing something.  There is a nice sunny spot on my couch right now as the May sunshine streams through the window here at the Lamp Post.  Maybe I'll just couch it with the kids for a bit.  A lazy song posted above for a lazy Mother's Day afternoon for me. 

Ladies, you can tell that it is obvious this song is sung by a man (Bruno Mars), as well as written by one.  It seems the song writer has had many days such as the one being sung about.  One writes best through personal experience, right?  Sounds like this guy had lots of practice couching it and doing nothing.   For the moms out there, you know those days are few and far between.  A mother's job never ends.  Even if it means cleaning up hula-hoop size piles of dog vomit all weekend long. 

Praise to all you mother's out there as well as to all of you dog lovers.  Owning a pet is like being a parent.  When you bring home that little Fido or Rex, you are invested, not only in cash but in love.  I am not one to offer any sort of financial advice, but I do know if you do invest in a dog, they pay off is there for you. 

Ruff, Woof, Bow Wow, and Yap (for the chihuahua lovers),

1 comment:

Barbara said...

Prayers for your fur-child...