Freaky Friday…

So the truth is, some pretty ridiculous things have happened to us this week that I have not written about yet.  It’s hard to write about bad things happening in a place like this:

What is that abomination you ask?  You probably don’t recognize it at all.  Let me show you what it looked like before they uhh painted it and moved its location.  Serendipity House (Nights in Rodanthe)

Yes, they saved it.  I love that it was saved; however, they painted the shutters BLUE.  Sigh.  I’m not sure why it bothers me so much, but it does.  It just looks so sad now.  Anyway, moving on to other things that have bothered me this week.

The very first day at the pool, a new club here I might add, my husband noticed something was bothering his back.  He came over to me and asked me what was on his back.  I yelped pretty loud.  I said, ummm, I think a spider bit you.  He said nahhh, it had green legs and I think it was a flying bug.  I said that he needed medical attention.  His manly answer, nope, it’s probably fine.  Okay.  Whatever.  I have seen spider bites and dealt with them and I knew the skin looked infected…like it was already dying.  Seriously.  He said all that was left was some green legs.  Hmm.  He was trying to get his tan on, which is quite manly (not), and he felt a prick and wiped back there.  Nothing to fret over.

When we got to our vacation house, the dogs went wild.  They went all over having a great time and since it was advertised “pet friendly”, we let them explore a second as we got the suitcases in.  My girls still had to watch them, but the old doxy man went under the bed in their room and acted like a pup again.  He came out bearing…old orange peels.  Ewww.  Okay, so not the greatest first impression.  This was Saturday.  By Wednesday, we thought the house was fully inspected by the dogs.  We. Were. Wrong.

The tiny 4 month old girl pup escaped through a small gap in a baby gate and ran downstairs to see what her girls were doing.  I yelled down to get her and bring her back.  In a matter of minutes, my oldest ran up the stairs and said she thought Juliet found a tiny pill.  WHAT??  Are you sure?  Where?  How?  What color?  Well, she went under the bed that my mom was using and when my daughter tried to get her out, she said she looked guilty like she was playing with something.  The next thing she knew, she swallowed the evidence.  Okay.  Keep calm.  Don’t panic.  I should do something.  I need to get the pill out.  I need to make her throw up.  Calm down first.  My mom says that she did not have any medicine downstairs and neither did I.  We have no way of knowing what kind of pill that was.  I panic some more and get my husband.  He tells me to calm down.  Refer to earlier spider bite for his judgement on this.

My gut told me to go to the store and get the hydrogen peroxide I needed in order to make her throw up.  This is a home remedy I had looked up before and my husband claims we can’t be sure if this even was a pill.  Sigh.  He tells me we should just watch her overnight.  NEVER do this.  Go with your gut.  The dog is fine that night; however, she gets sick the very next day and throws up all day.  The tiny thing weighs 5.5 pounds.  I call the emergency vet…no answer.  I look up other veterinarians on the island.  Hour or more away.  We drive to one that didn’t answer only to find out they have changed their hours.  We have no cell service, so we go back and I look up an emergency vet because of course by this time it is after 5.  He eventually calls me back only to tell me to watch her some more.  Try to feed her a bland diet once she has stopped throwing up.  She finally stops throwing up that night and gets a few hours of sleep.  This morning she managed to keep a few kibbles down because she hates the bland diet of rice I offer her.  She won’t eat, get up, or even wag her tail.  I didn’t sleep the night before and decide this is too much.  I tell my husband I am packing up to leave and taking her to our vet at home.  I am done.

He finally agrees she needs to see a doctor when the tiny thing throws up one more time after 12 hours of keeping something down.  We find one within 50 minutes, and take off.  No cell service.  We don’t stop, we go there without phoning ahead.  Once there, the vet tells me what I already knew.  I should have made her throw up.  Immediately.  The only time you don’t is if she had ingested some sort of petroleum-based product.  Too little too late.  So, fix her please I say with my eyes.  What now I ask?  We stop the vomiting.  Check.  She needs fluids I say and I want a full blood workup.  He says he wants an x-ray to make sure there are no blockages.  Whatever.  Make it so.  Okay.  I see the x-ray.  Clear.  She gets fluids and he hands me back my dog that has a camel hump on her back.  WTH??  Oh yeah, they can apparently give dogs fluids all at once.  Who knew.

Finally he comes back with the blood work.  All clear.  You are good to go, and lucky.  Lucky??  Me?   This time I was.  Please learn from me pet owners.  Go with your gut.  Juliet is resting comfortably now and we are heading home tomorrow.  That’s about all the “vacation” I can take for now.

“Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your own, instead of someone else’s.” 
~Billy Wilder
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