doggy e.r.

UGH.  I had the worst Monday night ever last week.


It started out perfectly fine.


I went to the gym, like normal.  Got some groceries, like normal.  Started dinner and had the stupid Bachelor on, like normal.  AND THEN, I walked into my bedroom and found trash strewn across my bathroom and bedroom floor.  WTF.

I was on the phone with Lincoln while all of this was going on and I'm sure my voice change scared him a little.  Getting off of the phone at this point was probably the best idea.  I mean trash had overtaken my bathroom, for the love.


My little beast decided to go to town on trash, of all things; and lots of it.


I wasn't quite sure what to do...I mean I was in the middle of making a delicious dish for the crock-pot for the next day, it was almost bed-time, and I really just wanted to relax. 


After calling the emergency vet, they told me that I should probably bring her in since I didn't know how much or what exactly she ate.  Perfect.


Before calling the vet, I called my co-worker Jenny to see if she had ever had something similar happen with her small dog.  When she answered I was a little caught off guard by her reply:


Jenny: "I already know."
Me: "You do?  What? How?"
Jenny: "Oh, wait.  What are you calling about?"
Me: "No, what are you talking about?"


(She was talking about a co-worker who had passed away earlier in the day, which just added to my shit-tastic night)


Jenny: "So what are you really calling about?"
Me: "Well I think my dog may have eaten a tampon and a lot of other trash and I was just calling to see if Stevie had ever done that."
Jenny: <hysterical laughter>
Me: "I'm taking that as a no...."
Jenny: "NO. Er, well I don't think so...what are you going to do, take her to the emergency vet?"


So after that convo, and doing some googling, I decided my best bet was to take my crazy dog to the vet.


Upon arriving to the emergency vet, I was greeted with a cat that had a leaking face (it was so nasty, and I really don't care for cats, but I felt bad for this one...), a few tear-stained faces, and a handful of dogs waiting for their appointments.  My dog rolls up to the counter jumping all over the place as happy as can be.


Now, some of you might be asking yourself, why, if she was acting fine would I take her in? 


Here's the thing:  I seriously had no idea how much trash she ate or what exactly she ate and with her belly being so small, I was scared that I'd wake up to her violently puking and I was in no mood to clean that up.


We finally made our way back to the exam room and the pet nurse took her back to have her stomach examined.  When he came back in, he asked if they could give her a shot to induce vomiting.  I, of course, said sure, have at it.


The vet came back in awhile later (luckily I was smart enough to bring a book along with me...) and informed me that she had managed to eat quite a bit of stuff and that they were just monitoring her for the next ten minutes since she was still dry-heaving.  They didn't want her to throw up in my car.  Perfect.


We finally left the vet almost two hours after arriving and I was expecting my dog to be lethargic, have no appetite and to possibly have the runs and to puke a little more, however, she acted the complete opposite.  She ran around the house like a mad-woman, ate an entire bowl of food and then was finally ready to go to bed when I finished cleaning up my crock-pot preparations in the kitchen. 


Almost $200 later and my dog seems to be completely fine.  She has however, lost her out of kennel privileges for awhile.  Little betch.