Gracie had a UTI about 2 months ago. Dogs can get those. After about a week of peeing way more frequently, squatting to only have a drop come out, and frequent accidents in the house, it was determined that a UTI was the likely cause. When I got her pee checked out, however, it was very diluted and showed no sign of blood or anything that would indicate a UTI.
“Well, what would it be, then?” I asked the vet.
“We’ll just watch her and if it continues, at her age, it’d most likely be related to her kidneys.”
When I got home, I googled (NEVER use Google to diagnose a medical illness. But, even as I say this, I will definitely do it again. Using Google for these things is an illness unto itself.) kidney issues in a puppy which then led me to juvenile renal failure which then led me to numbering the days Gracie had left and crying at the prospect of her quickly approaching death. All of this on my birthday weekend. Lovely. And last year on the night of my birthday, guess what arrived in the mail? Allie’s ashes. Bad sign.
(I don’t completely keep my wits about me when it comes to dog’s potential illnesses since Allie’s death. I admit it. Guilty as charged.)
I even had my Mom’s friend doing Reiki on her from afar. Yes, that is possible, and yes, that really did happen.
So, I put Gracie on antibiotics for a UTI and hoped that it would cure her ailment.
It did. The UTI symptoms stopped and she was a happy puppy. And I was a very happy puppy owner.
Now, a few months later, she is showing more signs of a UTI. Great.
(Maybe it’s a weird fluke thing she’s going through. Let’s hope.)
But, just when a UTI seemed like the big concern, Gracie went and trumped it when she swallowed a 4 x 1 inch marrow bone last night. I put some peanut butter on one end to get her interested, turned around for 1 second, and looked back to see her doing that snake swallow thing as the entire bone journeyed its way down into her stomach.
I hate you, Gracie.
(I totally love her actually, which makes this all the more annoying.)
I almost lunged with an outstretched arm ready to plunge right down her throat, hook the aforementioned bone, and rescue her poor stomach from days of unrest.
I didn’t. It was too late.
So, after a sleepless night–completely with Gracie’s guttural noises and heaving followed by throw up by our bedside at, oh, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, and 5 am and me, tired and in the dark, sticking my hand right in the throw-up to fish for a bone (that never made its way out)–we are awake and waiting. Waiting for what you ask? For her stomach acids to break down this nuisance of a bone, hopefully, and let her pass it. Then we’ll tackle the UTI. Happy happy joy joy!
(Somewhere in there I also googled dogs swallowing bones, and apparently, it can be okay. We have to wait and see. I think this was all in her grand plan to force me to stay home and play with her.)
That’s where we are on this Sunday morning as Gracie runs around chewing on her squeaker ball, all the while giggling to herself that she has our undivided attention. Skipping church, and stuck home to observe a dog. It is a good thing I love her so.
The morning was made a little brighter when these two brought us breakfast in bed.
They really are so sweet, even when I’m a crank in the morning. Which I can be. Whether or not I’ve been fishing for a bone in dog vomit all night.
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