No, not You. 

This time I’m not even talking about Me. 

This time, I’m talking about This Guy:

Ohhh…you bet I am. 

Now don’t you for one second let that velvety wrinkled brow or those perfectly floppy ears fool you.  This one is a bossy, demanding, unforgiving dictator in this house.  He is diabolical.  Unwavering.  He rules with a puddle of drool. 

Here’s how it went down.

Yesterday after an afternoon shift at work, a bit of a nap and a 75 minute P90X workout it was finally time to shower, eat and (thankfully) crawl into bed at a decent hour for once. 

So around nine-thirty or so I am in the process of playing on the computer while getting some dinner put together.  After a few minutes I realize that there is an unfamiliar sound in my house.  Subtle enough that it took some time to seep into my conscience but soon became impossible to ignore. 

I look up to find the source of the noise, which is coming from the couch, to see a rather surprised and perplexed looking pitbull furiously licking his nose and making quite the LOUD lip-smacking business of it.  He also has a very definite “what-the-hell?!?!” look on his little doggy face.

Uh-oh.

Now as anyone with a dog can tell you, this generally means one very certain thing:  Dog is about to puke.

Great.

Except he doesn’t.

Instead he hops off the couch and starts pacing around the room still licking and smacking like crazy.  For my part, I proceed to crawl around after him with a towel and a plastic sack.  You know, for the vomit.  This is despite the fact that I happen to know from past experience that there is absolutely no way that this dog is going to just cooperate and throw up in the bag.  In fact, at the last pre-puke second, he is most likely going to morph into a slippery little ninja, darting through my grasp just to make it to the carpet.  The expensive one.  As in, “Take THAT, Mama.”

Don’t be jealous.  My life is not always this glamorous.

Anyway.  This whole display is all for naught.  He never does get sick.  Eventually the licking does subside on it’s own.  And instead gradually turns into constant, unbelievably excessive drooling. 

This is where I start to panic.

I know what you’re thinking.  It’s a bit soon to turn into an overprotective maniac.  Well guess what?  Nobody asked you.  So there.

I admit I can be a little bit weird about my dog.  But if you have been privy to even a partial history of his laundry list of “issues” I think my behavior becomes a little more understandable. 

That being said, I do attempt to be reasonable.  I do not immediately race to the car to the emergency vet.  I take a deep breath, calm myself down, decide to proceed as though I’m not a psycho about this particular mutt and…get on the internet. 

God, I’m dumb.

For the next four-ish hours I sit there eyeballing my poor dog, sticking my fingers in his mouth and poking him in his side, pulling back his eyelids, checking his paws, sniffing his ears, you name it.  As a result I mentally gave my sleepy, drooly dog everything from allergies to seizures; poisoning to bloat; kidney failure to indigestion.  And then at four-thirty in the morning I bundled him into the car to go to the emergency vet.

Now, he hadn’t exactly gotten worse, but he hadn’t really improved either.  Even as we were waiting by the front door for Todd to get ready (for the record, he insisted on coming with us.  I didn’t “make him”.  He’s wonderful like that.) A.K. produced a giant, slimy lake of saliva at my feet in the matter of about a minute.  So off we go.

The emergency vet is all of a three minute drive from our home.  I had called with a heads-up that we were on our way and then we were off into the freezing dark.  Pedal to the metal and all that.

Moments later we arrive, get inside, wait for the paperwork and…wait…what?!?!  Has he quit slobbering?  Why yes.  Yes he has.  What he has not stopped doing is sniffing everything, wagging his tail and just generally being in the pink of health. 

We look like idiots.  Or liars.  Either way it’s not flattering.

 We stay anyway and get him checked out because there really was something wrong with him a minute ago.  Also, we were already there and my piece of mind needed it.

So four hundred dollars later we learn the following:

1)  A.K. has gotten fat (this was our observation, not the doctor) and is going on an immediate overhaul of exercise and portion control.  Shame on us.

2)  Other than his minor weight issue he’s perfectly fine.

3)  I can function on a double shift on three hours of sleep.  (I probably could have done without this last particular realization).

4)  If my dog does not feel he is getting adequate attention he will stop at nothing to get it.  Lesson learned 🙂

We have discussed with the dog the possibility that if he keeps up this kind of behavior he’s going to have to get a job.  He seemed amused.  Then he wandered off.

He sure is lucky he’s cute.

Advertisements