I rolled over sleepily to turn off my alarm clock. How could it be time to get up already? How could it be Monday already? Then I noticed there was a wet spot IN my bed. How could that be? I reached my arm out from under my warm covers into the cold morning air to feel if the wet spot had come from the top of the bed. My hand met with the culprit full on: dog vomit.
I had just pulled the comforter out of the plastic bag fresh from the dry cleaners the night before, and now every layer of my bedding was soaking with dog vomit. I swore out loud, pushed the covers back, realizing painfully there would be no hitting snooze this morning, and put one foot out of bed and straight into a cold pile of dog diarrhea. I swore again, only more loudly, as my dog scurried from the room.
It was dark and cold. I like to sleep with my window open, especially in winter. I hobbled on the heal of the foot covered in feces to the bathroom sink while holding the hand covered in dog vomit up. I washed my hand and then my foot in freezing cold water. Next I turned on the lights to survey the damage. There was a massive brown puddle all over the floor next to the bed with a trail leading out of the bedroom.
I swore again.
The worst part about mornings like this is trying to wake yourself up to be coherent enough to map out a good battle plan for fighting dog poo stains.
I made my way down the hall to find the faux carpet steamer cleaner (just add hot water), and the fight to find all of the bits and pieces began. Where had I put the cleaning solution? Why the deuce was it downstairs instead up upstairs where the cleaner was?! I hate myself in that moment. Where was the Re.solve Pet Stain cleaner? How was I ever going to get this out?! "Calm down. This isn't the first time you've gotten diarrhea out of the white berber. You can do it again."
On my way down stairs I noticed my dog is a complete maximizer, as she managed to cover some serious footage with diarrhea drizzle all throughout the house. All the way down the stairs (and in the middle, I might add), all around the dining room table (yes, she walked 360 degrees around the table), through the kitchen, and to the back door (where she undoubtedly realized she was done needing to go outside).
As I cleaned, I realized my dog was really sick. She never throws up. Diarrhea isn't a big deal, but the runs coupled with vomiting is a bad sign. I began to think of what she could have possibly eaten and wondered whether or not this would constitute a trip to the vet.
Flash back to last night when I gave my daughter a bowl of grapes. "Just make sure you don't give any to the doggies baby. They will make them sick."
Grapes are toxic to dogs. As few as seven little grapes can kill a dog. They shut down a dog's liver. Luckily I knew this because I knew in that instant my dog was going to the vet to have her life saved.
Ten minutes after I should have been at work (I texted my PM an hour before to tell him I would be late and why), I was on my way out the door with my sick dog and newly soiled clean comforter. I wasn't too worried about my pooch because she was acting normal. Then I talked to the vet and broke out in a cold sweat. He informed me that they always seem fine in the beginning, but they get worse as the hours go on. It was a good thing I knew to bring her in.
At 11:00 I couldn't take the wait anymore and called the vet to see how she was doing. All of her blood work had come back good. I had gotten her there soon enough. She was on IVs to replace her fluids and was being given antibiotics intravenously. They didn't want me to come get her before 6:00 at night, so as to prolong her IV time and prevent the need for her to be kept overnight.
At 6:00 the Munchkin and I showed up to pick up a very happy-to-go-home Mags. I paid the bill, all the while thanking the heavens I had pet insurance that cut my bill in half. I then grabbed Maggie's meds and took her and the Munchkin home. Once there I had to go over the biggest stain in the carpet with cleaner one more time. Mags returned to the scene of the crime while I was cleaning. I looked at her and said, "All that matters is that you are okay."
Thank heaven today is over and my dog is going to be fine.
P.S. In case you are wondering, yes the picture above depicts my Christmas tree being shoved up a GE Engineer's backside. More on the story behind that later.