OmegaMom

The dawg has had unfirm poops for the last few days.  Yesterday, it started being more runny.  This early a.m., he was in and out multiple times, and in the gloaming it sounded even more runny.  Then this morning in the bright sunshine, it was obvious it was almost liquid.  There was straining and twitching.  Then he started barfing.  We were getting worried.  OmegaDad located a vet, called, and got an appointment for 4 p.m.

Today was the dotter’s Kindergarden Circus.  We left, watched adorable five- and six-year-olds playing at being horses, lions, dancing bears, acrobats, and clowns, and singing songs.  (I’ll give you one guess as to what the dotter played in this do.  One.)

We returned home an hour and a half later, to discover the dawg had not been able to hold it and had splattered all over the living room floor.

Well, ewww, yes.  But what was most disturbing to us was that…(grossitude alert!  I mean, even more gross!)…there was obviously a half-and-half mixture of liquified trying-to-be-poop and blood.

Blood?!

OmegaDad has a history of bleeding duodenal ulcers.  These are things that don’t hurt, because they are in the part of the intestine without any pain nerves.  So they just stew along, getting worse and worse, until they start bleeding.  In human beings, you end up with black, tarry poop.  That’s when OmegaDad starts looking like a strung-out junkie, purple bags under his eyes, ashen skin, purple lips, and having dreadful headaches.  And we haul him off to the hospital for transfusions and (if not caught in time) some time in the ICU.  I’ve dealt with this three times since we got together (the ICU incident was, luckily enough, before I met him…that would have just sent me ballistic).  OmegaDad has learned that he cannot stop his Prilosec.  Ever.  Because he doesn’t have the kind of ulcers that you can cure with a month’s worth of intensive antibiotic treatment.

Anyway, any time there is blood in poop, I get Very Anxious.

So OmegaDad got the appointment moved up.  I got out the Clorox and started cleaning like a maniac.  The thought of this thing being contagious just raises the hair on my head.

Then I hauled OmegaDotter off to her Friday gymnastics class.

When we returned, the hubby and dawg had also returned.

OmegaDad was not impressed by the vet.  The vet had not even touched the dawg.  (Well, he does have a bad rep, and we do have to tread very carefully around any vet, because the dawg needs to be either tranquilized or muzzled.  But even so…)  We were able to provide an excellent sample of the stuff from the splatter on the living room floor, which the vet had analyzed, and he proclaimed it a bacterial infection, prescribed antibiotics, no food, water only for a day, then the bland diet thing, plus chewable Tums.

This didn’t really impress me, either, because…well…very bloody poop just sets all my alarm bells ringing.  Like I said, I get Very Anxious.

Then dawg indicates to me that he needs to go out.  I take him out.  He squirts.  It sounds like water pouring out.  When he’s done, I take a peek, and it looks like cherry red water with some brown mixed in.

Dawg is not happy.  I am not happy.  OmegaDad is not happy.  We may try another vet tomorrow morning.

Anyone have any experience with very sick and unhappy dawgs?

Update:  The dawg vomited again, including his medicine, and there was a hard ball-like thing in the vomit.  So OmegaDad called another vet, and is on his way there now.  We know the dawg is sickly when a moose can be rummaging around in our back yard and he doesn’t even twitch an ear…damn moose, eating our nice fresh green grass!

WHOA!  I was downloading the pics of him from afar when he sauntered up to the house and started chowing down on the grass right outside my office window!!!  I was wildly watching the "files transferred" number, and then clicking on the "delete files uploaded from camera" and going "don’t go away…don’t go away!"  So he didn’t.  And then I wished he would, because he wuz big.

You can see some of OmegaDad’s new veggie beds behind him, in front of "The Villa", which desperately needs painting to match the house.  You can also see some of my Christmas cactus collection.

Note the bent forelegs.  Why reach down using your neck when you can crouch down like that?

Damn moose.  Eating all our nice green grass.  What the heck are we going to do to protect our veggies??