The Pug is Sick

I had a meeting in Dallas yesterday, so I left my home before 6am. The pug was coughing and looking not so great. I hadn't set up a day visit because I was sure I'd be home by early afternoon. So I land in Dallas by 8am, hit a 9:30 meeting and get back to the airport to make a noon flight home. When we left the meeting the interstate was closed Northbound, so we had to take alternate routes. At the airport I looked at the TV across the gate area and saw live news showing pictures of an explosion. There was no sound and I couldn't read, but I was certain it was Dallas. I prayed the plane would leave on time to get me out before some band cracked down due to a potential terrorist situation.

Nothing held us up and I was pulling into my driveway by 2pm. I found the pug had been sick. I cleaned up the messes and watched to see if this was worthy of a visit to the vet's. By 2:30 I was walking in to a surprisingly empty waiting room at the vets. The woman couldn't find the pug's chart.

"Check the top of your desk, you guys probably haven't filed it yet from the last time he was here."

I was right, they were finishing notes from last week's visit. I took a seat as the pug danced around leaking drops of urine everywhere. The vet gave him an antibiotic shot and tons of medication and sent us home. Last night was a long night as the pug hacked and threw up through most of the it.

I had a conference call and several reports to do so I sat through the day in my chair working. The pug lay on the rug next to me, constantly coughing and throwing up every hour on the hour. I have discovered Pampers baby wipes work very well if used immediately to clean the rug. I hate to move him. He can't get in and out of his beds right now and it's so hard for him to get comfortable. As he's not really moving and has been sick in the exact same spot almost a dozen times I decide to make this easier on myself. I go get an old towel to lay on the spot and let him lay on it to be sick. Only problem is now he refuses to stay on the rug and walks around it. Basically he's now thrown up all around it as though he was creating some macabre frame. It's getting pretty hairy so I decide to call the vet. One of the assistant's answers the phone.

"Hi Bethany, this is the pug's mom."

Happily she asks, "How is he doing?"

"Not so great actually. I know you all think I'm a paranoid schizophrenic, but..."

She sadly and seriously sighs, "I would never call you that to your face."

Her honesty surprises me for a moment. "I know what y'all say in the breakroom but...." I go on to tell her of the pug's woes and ask for advice. We determine we'll wait until tomorrow giving the shot the opportunity to work more.

Later my friend calls from Los Angeles to chat. I ask about his two dogs, one of which he rescued from the streets and is rather old and miserable.

"They are doing great. She is dead set on living. Every day I wake up, look over and ask her Are you dead yet? And she just looks up at me. I call her and she never comes. I know she can hear. I just imagine her sitting there saying to herself, Why do they keep calling me that name? I don't know why but I've a clue her name was Princess."

He bitterly tells me how she's peed on every surface in his home. "She's ruining my life, I tell ya." he moans. "But what are you gonna do? I love her."

I hang up the phone to go clean up once again. He had a tiny breakfast. By now I'm sure this is food he ate last year coming up.

What are you going to do? I love him.