Came home from work on Thursday night to find the Wonder Dog in “some distress”. I can’t think of any better way to describe it than that …. although “wigging out” would be a good second choice. Crying, whining, agitated, pacing, circling …. “in some distress”.
I learned an interesting life lesson that night. A sturdy 110-pound draft dog can be uncontrollable under normal circumstances. Try adding “some distress” to the mix. His natural good nature is the only thing between me and utter annihilation.
Make no mistake. He LETS me be the boss, for which I’m grateful.
24 hours of hospitalization later, we’re back home, he’s resting comfortably, and we have a daunting home care regimen ahead of us for the next few days, which includes the repetition at frequent intervals of the words “poor, poor dog”.
All because he thinks he’s a horse and went foraging in the field, gorging himself on hay, with a few pointy things like sticks and pine needles, some of which remain in his stomach and colon.
All the details below.
Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to apply his topical medication…. down where the sun don’t shine.
Poor, poor dog.