Feeling Sick, Seeking Comfort, Then Feeling Better

Hello!

Ever since I was a little puppy, I've been troubled by a weak intestinal system.  As a result, every six to twelve months I'm overcome with an upset stomach which requires a round or two of antibiotics and a couple of uncomfortable days and nights punctuated with multiple trips outdoors at odd hours before it clears up.

Because I have such a nice family, they always do their best to try to make me feel better during these bouts (and let me tell you, I am pretty miserable when I've got tummy troubles).  For instance, either Ma or Pa camps out in the living room with me each night I feel ill to facilitate quick access to the outside door, Sister curls up on my pillow with me during the day and gently rubs my tummy while I snooze, and then there is the classic game of "No Mess In Here" which, as traumatizing as the occasional discovery of a "mess in here" is, is, I must admit, a rather enjoyable game.

Anyway, on Wednesday afternoon I came down with my latest bout of intestinal distress and as a result, I had to roust Pa at 4am on Thursday morning to visit the restroom.  Neither Pa nor I was very happy about wandering around outside at that hour of the morning, but Pa was a good sport and did his best to comfort me while I did what I had to do.

Once I was done, Pa and I returned to the house.  While Pa put away my leash and locked the door, I scurried back into the bedroom to continue sleeping.  I didn't expect to sleep soundly though.  You see, when I scurried back into the bedroom, I didn't simply settle down on my pillow or assume my normal spot blocking the doorway.  No, I jumped up onto the bed, curled up in Pa's spot, and squeezed my eyes closed, hoping to fool him into believing I was alseep (you know, "let sleeping dogs lie").  I heard Pa walk into the bedroom and pause beside the bed.  Expecting to be roused from my comfy spot, I immediately went limp knowing that the humans have trouble moving me when I'm dead weight.  But Pa did something strange.  He climbed into bed next to me.  Having suddenly become aware that I was not going to be getting the heave-ho, I sighed and fell asleep. 

Crushed Grass

It is now a few days later, and I am feeling much better (Ma took me to the vet on Thursday afternoon and I now have a two-week supply of medicine and a blood test confirming that my small intestines naturally harbor a heightened number of bacteria).  I felt so good that I spent the weekend out east mooching cookies with Bruno and barking at a squirrel that climbed a tree outside my window and shook its butt at me for a solid minute).  And when I got home, I rolled around in the grass with abandon (the grass, overdue for a mowing, got a little crushed).

It's nice to feel better.