Heartworm… of a sort…

Returning from the airport well after midnight on Saturday, it wasn’t until lunchtime today that i was reunited with my canine life partner, Mr. Pickles.  After letting my kids know that i’d had a great time, but was doing battle with a mild case of “Mummy Tummy” after eating some bad nachos at a rasta bar, i got this from my daughter:

Sorry to hear about your tummy trouble, though you and Pickles share similar circumstances. I woke up on thursday to an extremely irritating puppydog demanding his walk. When i let him out, he shat a lovely brown liquid. When going downstairs for my run, i discovered that he had left me a “good morning” present: a splattering of poo all over the theater room floor that loosely resembled a Pollack painting. Dog’s got talent…

By the time i was in the airport on Saturday, my son called to inform me that the gastro-rocketry had gotten worse – now with much pukage.  Including a rather spectacular splat on my bed*.  He took the pup to the vet first thing Saturday morning, and the doggie doc wanted to keep him for the rest of the weekend.  It seemed fairly serious.

Sunday was a very long day.  It’s hard to describe, but the presence of this large brown dog – breathing, rearranging his dulaps, groaning or sighing in his sleep – is something that we’ve all gotten used to.  He doesn’t constantly beg for attention.  He’s just always there.  A quiet, comforting companion.

As we go about our business, he moves from room to room – flopping on the bedroom floor as i put away my laundry, dozing at the top of the stairs if i’m mucking around in the utility room downstairs, coming in to say ‘hi’ if i’m in the bathroom for more than a few minutes.  Mostly, he sleeps.  Hardly an overpowering presence.

When he’s gone?  Everything is wrong.  Feng Shui fucked up to the max.  It’s as though the household heart has stopped beating.

Given that the doc’s office was closed on Sunday, i wasn’t able to get an update on his condition.  Fearing the worst, i called this morning.  I was overjoyed to learn i could pick him up at my convenience! 

Still no idea what jacked his delicate digestive tract, i’m simply delighted to have him home again… even though my current endearing name for him is “Shitstain”…

Still not 100%, but glad to be home...

Still not 100%, but glad to be home...

* The Boy earned himself some bonus points by laundering all of my bed linens – and making my bed – before i returned home… And both of them spent many hours scrubbing the gnarliest of gnarly dog messes from carpeting… Thankfully…