Posts Filed Under Creature Features

How Not to Make a Dog Vomit

posted by Momo Fali on January 19, 2012

The first time it happened, I had to tackle her. I was pregnant, with bulbous belly, tromping around the back yard with a spoon in one hand and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in the other. I took her down on the small hill next to our house.

Once I had her trapped underneath me I didn’t really know what to do. How would I remove the bottle cap, pour peroxide into the spoon and shove it into the mouth of a 65 pound, squirming Labrador? I did it, but it wasn’t pretty; nor was what came out of her stomach about 10 minutes later. Have you seen The Exorcist? Yeah, that.

Thirteen years ago this was a frequent occurrence around our house. Our dog, Blue, eating something she shouldn’t (breast pads, underwear, chicken bones, a 25 lb. frozen turkey, etc.) and me, sometimes, having to make her throw it back up before it did any damage.

Like the time my in-laws were coming to town to celebrate their 50th anniversary. About two hours before their arrival, I felt the need to go to the mall and buy a new piece of furniture. I’m rational like that. While I was gone, Blue snatched an enormous, solid-chocolate bunny off the far-reaches of the kitchen counter and ate the entire thing. Happy Easter!

When I discovered this, I did what I was used to doing; I put a piece of cheese in the bottom of a bowl and covered it with peroxide. DO NOT DO THIS! Using a spoon had never worked well, so this had become my altered method. Usually, by getting to the cheese, she would ingest just enough peroxide to make her vomit. It was an extremely scientific measurement, exactly not at all.

Now, we don’t go buying fancy schmancy furniture around here. Oh, no! None of that solid wood stuff for us. If you can’t put it together with an Allen wrench or a Phillips-head screwdriver, well you can just forget it. With, roughly 30 minutes until our family would be here, I left Blue outside with her bowl while I sweat and struggled with a particleboard end table. At the very least, I have my priorities in order.

I went back out 15 minutes later to find Blue had eaten the cheese and finished every last drop of peroxide. Every. Last. Drop.

Remember Willy Wonka’s chocolate river? Yeah, that. Except that after the chocolate stopped, Blue kept retching. I’m not even kidding; I thought I had killed my dog and that she was going to throw up her own stomach. If you ever see one of your neighbors running around her back yard chasing after her dog saying, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Also, please hurry, because company will be here soon!” then you’ll know just what I looked like.

And, last week, when our young Lab, Daisy, found 1/2 a sheet of chocolate cake in a neighbor’s yard, and ate to her heart’s desire, we got to relive the experience.

Lucky for her, I’ve learned how to use a syringe.

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Day 22 – Busted

posted by Momo Fali on November 22, 2011

My son has been sick for over a week. I took him to the doctor on Saturday and he was diagnosed with pneumonia (again) and a sinus infection (he is prone to them, even with a sinus rinse every day). Sigh.

Because he is also prone to gagging, the congestion and post-nasal crud he has can cause vomiting in a split second. One drip in the wrong spot down his throat and he’s heaving.

Since my new, amaze-bed has an adjustable base, he’s been sleeping with me and his dad for the last week. We can prop the head of the mattress up with the push of a button…you know, so his crud can drip properly and I don’t have to wash vomit-laden sheets. You’re welcome.

So, yeah…he’s been in our bed. Oh, hey, have I ever mentioned that I’m an insomniac?

He’s finally improving, but having him in my bed, just inches from my face, with his sinus-infected snoring and feverish shivering, plus the fact that bacterial infections are always scary for us, means that I haven’t had much sleep in the last seven nights. I’m exhausted. Talk to me wrong and I’ll burst into tears. Just try it.

This morning, my almost-teen daughter came downstairs to find me staring into space and sipping my coffee with one of our dogs, Daisy, next to me on the couch. I had just seen my reflection a few minutes prior. It wasn’t pretty. Let’s just say there was some epic bed-head going on.

My daughter sat down on the couch and asked, “Are you tired?”

I replied, “Yeah. I’m beat. Your brother has been keeping me awake, so last night I tried to sleep in his bed, but it’s all springy, which is fine when you’re 45 pounds, but I AM SO NOT 45 pounds. I’ll be drinking coffee all day to stay awake and tonight? Well, tonight he has to go back to his room no matter what. I have GOT to get some sleep!”

A few minutes passed. I watched the news, sipped more coffee and we both petted Daisy, who was still laying between us on the couch.

Then Daisy yawned.

And, my daughter again asked, “Are you tired?”

This time I replied, “Wait, when you asked me earlier if I was tired, were you talking to the dog?”

Yeah, that’s right.

She’s so lucky that I didn’t burst into tears.

Day 7 – Constant Dog

posted by Momo Fali on November 7, 2011

She warms me.

She has been at my feet all day, occasionally lifting her head to look out the window and protect me from the ever present stream of people walking to the park. She lays still until a truck rolls onto our street and she begins to shiver with fear and I feel her trembling against my leg.

She didn’t used to be scared of anything, but age is crippling her body and mind. She shakes when we say her name, “Blue” because it may mean she needs to stand, which she can no longer do without two hands below her belly, pulling her lame back legs out from under her.

Once she stands, there is hesitation when she must move from the rug to the hardwood floor. She freezes at the edge of the carpet, setting one paw down on the solid surface with trepidation, then pulling it back to safety where there is fiber in which to lunge her claws and a soft landing for when she falls. She falls a lot these days.

Maybe if we lived someplace warm, where ice wasn’t looming like a slick, glassy artifice strategically placed between the safety of the front door and the soft snow in which she used to frolic; the simple stoop, a colossal divide. Last night, she had to be carried to the grass; even when the sky was clear and the earth was dry.

She has been here longer than the child who is about to be a teen. She is our constant. Through pain, sickness, death and tragedy she has been here at my feet.

Warming me.

Metaphorically Speaking

posted by Momo Fali on August 19, 2011

I haven’t had much time to tell you about the BlogHer ’11 Conference, because my job is to read what everyone else is saying about the BlogHer ’11 Conference and, whoa Nellie, do people say a lot. At least 99% of the reactions have been positive, so I have that going for me.  It’s hard enough to read thousands of comments, but if they were negative, I would likely be reading them from the corner, in the fetal position while sucking my thumb.

Since I am swimming in a sea of post-conference reports and tweets, I know that I’m not going to get around to writing a glowing post about my wonderful weekend. Therefore, I have decided to use visuals to describe how stellar my trip was.

This is what I found on my bed in San Diego after a hard day of work at the conference, which was also the night before I would be speaking in front of thousands of people. Nervous poop much? Thank goodness the convention center was big enough that I had entire bathrooms to myself. I digress. Those are rose petals left by my roommates. And, see that pillow on the right? That was personalized for me by one of them too.

This is what I found on my unmade bed, when I returned to Ohio. This is my dog’s “baby”. It is covered in dirt, fur and hardened dog slobber.

And that, boys and girls, sums up my conference experience quite well.