For The Love of Dogs

"Stupid dog." That's what we're saying, alternating with, "Poor Pooch." She swallowed rocks. Three of them. One she puked, the other two were white circles in the black x-ray. If she doesn't pass them, she'll have to have surgery. Stupid dog.

For those of you new to this blog, I'm talking about our 5-year-old, black setter-lab mix who is highly energetic with extreme retrieval instincts. She lives for rocks and tennis balls. Throw a ball for her and she races as fast as she can to get it. Over and over and over. If no ball is available, she finds a rock and chews on it, carries it around, brings it to us to throw, despite the fact that a thrown rock is a recipe for bruised bones. Stupid dog.

When we take her to the river, she digs for rocks, yipping and barking in excitement. She always sticks her head in the water to better see her prize, forgetting that she can't breathe underwater and comes up sneezing. She has to relearn that breathing lesson each time we go to the river. But, once reminded, she holds her breath while her snout prises up the selected rock. If she brings it to us to throw, she tries to retrieve that exact same rock. This is difficult because as you know and I know, she can't breathe in under water to smell for it. This, too, she has to relearn each time. Stupid dog.

We're pretty sure she's eaten rocks before. I have a decorative candle display that used to live on my coffee table. The candle is on a glass plate surrounded by rocks. I noticed one day that the rocks were many fewer than they used to be. I wondered. Then one afternoon I knew when I saw our dog sidle up to the display and chomp on a rock. The display is now on a much higher table. Stupid dog.

She's had mysterious vomiting episodes in the past. We always took her to the vet whose advice was always the same: Skip a meal or two, keep an eye on her, and bring her in if she got worse. We stopped bringing her in when her tummy was upset and waited it out and whatever troubled her always passed. Literally.

I'm thinking we might have done that this time--and saved a ton of money--but she seemed much worse than in the past, much more uncomfortable. She couldn't settle anywhere, couldn't seem to pass whatever might need to be passed, plus she'd thrown up a few times, including the rock. From her manner I was sure she was going to expire in our back yard and that was just something I couldn't face, so off we went.

She is now at the vet, eating the doggie equivalent of oatmeal, hoping this will stay in her system long enough to push the rocks along. If not, surgery seems to be the next option. I am glad that I've not been asked to administer the food and monitor the results, even if it would save money on the boarding fee. That's just too gross. I feel bad for her though. If she were a person in the hospital, I could go sit by her bedside and hold her paw. But she's not. She's a member of our family though, who isn't feeling well, and I'm worried about her. Poor pooch.