Yesterday morning was a ‘breakfast with the rug rats’ day, which means I’m up at 4 AM. I like to be fully awake, first for the drive to my son’s house, and then to greet the boys who hit the floor running at 5:30 AM. I had only been sleeping for a couple of hours, so was slightly grumpy when I woke with a terrible thirst to find that I had forgotten to fill the water glass beside my bed. I struggled out from under the blankets, picked up my glass and headed for the kitchen, muttering silently to myself. Because I was still dozy, I failed to remember that everything happens for a reason.
When I opened the kitchen door, it took a moment for me to take in what had happened. The first thing I noticed was that little Smooch was up, and came slowly shuffling (that’s how we describe the pup’s walk) towards me, head and tail down. The next thing was the sh*t (and was that vomit?), literally spread all over the floor. Even as I stood gaping, the pup was heaving again at my feet. I made a step towards the side door to let him out, but it was too late....and when I saw what he spewed, it struck terror in my heart.
Blood. Bright, red blood. A second look at the loose feces all around us showed blood too, and plenty of it.
The next few moments are slightly hazy. The poor little tyke made his way weakly to the door, but waited for me to go down into the dark with him as he vomited twice again. I already had the phone in hand, and stood outside shivering in my pyjamas as I tried to reach a vet. Our small community doesn’t have emergency service for domestic animals, I was told, but they did give me a number for a 24 hour service in Laval, which is about an hour’s drive from here. Somehow I managed to reach that number, get directions, text my grandson for help (who was sleeping over at his girl’s place...so didn’t answer right away, duh!), get dressed, do a swift and rudimentary cleanup in the kitchen, wrap up Smooch, who was trembling from exhaustion, and we were on our way.
The pup hates a leash; in fact he gets very hyper when he even sees one. He will, however, follow Grump voluntarily, and Grump listens well, so I had both dogs in the car as we barrelled towards the Laval clinic. In spite of never having been there, I knew the general area, and we made it in 45 minutes. At that time of night there isn’t much traffic on the road, nor police either, thankfully!
Smooch is still at the hospital. They were running tests to see if it’s a virus, which they doubt (he already had 2 of the 3 necessary vaccinations); or a gastro disease, or if maybe he swallowed something sharp that has perforated his stomach and intestine. In short, they don’t know yet what is happening. He seemed better when they called me yesterday at noon, then they called back at 3 PM to tell me that no, he was vomiting again, and they’re keeping him on antibiotics as they do more extensive tests.
Fred woke at 3:30 AM, read the ‘Urgent’ text on his phone, and called me immediately. There was really nothing he could do, but it was soothing just to hear his voice. I did make it back to my son’s house 5 minutes before his ride came to pick him up, and the rug rats were already awake. Their antics kept me from worrying myself into frenzy. My Cuban Suzie, who comes in to help for the business twice a week, and Fred, showed up not long after I got home, and they kept me grounded as I scrubbed the floor, finding more blood. At one point, Grump curled up on the couch beside me, and we both fell into a much needed sleep.
I have a long-awaited meeting in the city with another problem client this morning at 11 AM, and then will stop at the clinic on the way home.
I know you are all wishing me luck as you read this, because that’s the way friends are. It’s the love and support that we need, and that thought helps me keep my SMILE.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
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