If you can remember back to when your kids were little, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. Or if you have a dog you treat like a little kid, you’ll also know what I’m talking about. Kemba had a stomach bug last week. He didn’t look happy.
And I felt miserable.
Dogs with medical difficulties are not new to me. Yes, of course I’m referring to Ricky the Beagle, my first dog, may he rest in peace. Ricky, you might remember, had epilepsy — developed it when he was three. I gave him meds five times a day for the rest of his life. There were also countless overnights for him at the doggy hospital, on days when he’d had multiple seizures. Ricky was sweet, gorgeous, irresistible — and he had tremendous heart. But oh, was he ever high maintenance! I remember stopping at his vet for maybe the third time in one week, and Dr. B. said to me, with all due affection for Ricky, “Imagine if someday you had a normal dog.”
Kemba is my normal dog. He’s a happy-go-lucky tail-wagging machine — with more energy than any other five dogs I know combined. He’s up for everything. If I put on my ball cap and grab my car keys, he’s ready to rock and roll. He’s happy fetching, hiking, cross-country skiing. (I do the skiing; he races alongside and every so often flings himself in the snow and wallows in the powder, just for the joy of it.) He loves the mountains, he loves the beach, he loves dry land, he loves the water. Hot weather, cold weather — he’s down. (As I write this post, we’re in VT, just back from a trek around Hapgood Pond, where the winds were blowing at 30 mph and the temp was -2°.)
His first year, Kemba had a digestive problem. Lots of throwing up. But his vet switched up his diet, and he’s been healthy as a horse ever since.
Until last week. And the runs. At least every two hours. Sometimes even more. Constantly needing to squat. At times, for naught. Other times he’d squirt like a hose. (I know, TMI. I’ll ease up on the details.) At night, he felt the need to sleep not on his normal easy chair, but near a door, so he could give me a signal and get outside super-quick. (He’s very fastidious.) So I’d sleep on the floor beside him, to comfort him, snuggle with him, and be ready. We’d cut down on his food, since that seemed to trigger episodes — but I felt so bad that I cut down on my food, too. I didn’t want to be eating in front of him.
Every day we were hoping he’d feel better, since we were up in Vermont, away from his vet. But he was on the run for five days.
As soon as we got back to WePo I took him to see his doc. He’d lost four pounds. The doc dispensed Metronidazole, an antibiotic, and Protegrity EZ, a supplement, and put him on a temporary diet of Canine Blue Gastrointestinal, which promotes normal digestion. In no time, Kemba was feeling better.
And I was feeling better, too.
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I’m glad Kemba is feeling better. In the fall, DTB had something similar. I can sympathize with you sleeping on the floor in case Kemba had to run out. DTB had me up every 2 hours, right on the button. My problem was that I had to get up and go to work. Did I drag that day! Dante recovered and is fine. He just celebrated his 12th birthday!
Yay, Dante!