Yesterday my mom found evidence that I had tossed up some of my recent meals. The first sign was a messy spot on the bedroom carpet but the second time happened on tile in the hallway. My mom was SO grateful but she also freaked out.
She dashed to the phone and called our nearby vet. She soon learned the difference between vomiting and regurgitation, something she said she’d be just as happy not knowing. What I just did falls into the latter category. It comes from my esophagus and is potentially more serious.
Neither my mom nor I know much about my esophagus but my mom knows the meaning of “serious” and “x-rays.” Luckily our vet suggested giving me a bland diet (can you say “rice?”) all weekend and then we will see what happens.
My mom also made a mad dash to a pharmacy to get me some Pepcid. The store clerk, she said, got confused and tried to suggest a generic with a different ingredient. My mom knows “famotidine” from my previous tummy upsets. She is a pro.
So last night I was subjected to a small bowl of rice, with more of the same this morning. My mom was thrilled to see that I have no other symptoms. I’m alert and playful. There is nothing wrong with my appetite (although that rice thing will get old pretty fast) and I even did my business this morning. (That’s probably a LOT more than you wanted to know.)
My mom said she didn’t realize being a dog owner meant taking a minor in gastroenterology, whatever that is.
She also pointed out that she’s embarrassed to buy all those stomach medicines so she makes a point of telling everyone in the drug store that they’re for me. Like, who cares? She even wants to label the products in the medicine cabinet so people won’t think she’s got all those ailments as she gets older.
My mom is keeping her fingers crossed that I’ll be better by Monday. She said she just recovered from Ophelia’s departure, Pumpkin’s skin infection and Pumpkin’s cold. She wants healthy animals for at least six months.