At first I wasn’t going to do a follow-up on The Big Calvin Drama of 2009, but then I was reminded that not all of you were subjected to my above average levels of The Crazy this week on Twitter and it would be terrible if I left people hanging. I know how much time you all spend wondering about my wiener.
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Penis.
So – Calvin went to the emergency hospital overnight on Sunday and then directly to our regular vet all day Monday. He came home with us that night and had a bloody bile party – it was terrible…I’d suggest a more traditional theme like Tropical, Karaoke, Golf Pros ‘n Tennis Hoes, or Bondage – and then went back to our vet all day Tuesday, the emergency hospital overnight, and then our vet all day Wednesday.
Yeah. My week has been super.
Halifax doesn’t have a 24-hour vet, you see. Because being distraught, weepy and irrational over the status of your sick kid – I know you’re not supposed to treat pets like children but DON’T YOU DARE TRY TO TELL ME I’M WRONG RIGHT NOW – isn’t bad enough, you should also be bleary eyed, trying to see through the tears while speeding down the highway four times a day.
Windshield wipers do not work on your retinas.
I mean……no one cried. Especially not as they held onto their little pup’s bandaged arm for hours while sitting half-crawled into the pet-sized intensive care unit for hours. That never happened.
…that totally happened.
I won’t rehash the various circles of hell this whole experience put me through but I will point out how much difficulty I have when experts I rely on aren’t definitive. At times like this, I don’t want to be taken through the full range of things that could be wrong. I want to be brought into the fold once there’s a plan. Otherwise, you’re unleashing a world of suppressed emotional baggage onto the world.
You know…in case one of you ever ends up being a vet or technician helping my dog.
Shuddup.
As it turns out, Calvin was suffering from hemorrhagic gastroenteritis. [And again - I can't stress enough - do NOT rely on Google's 'Did you mean...' when it comes to medical conditions. Get them to write. it. down.] Which basically boils down to how you feel after a Gutbuster Burrito with a side of internal bleeding. Or at least how you’d feel if you were a 12lb animal with a teeny tiny system of internal organs. And if that burrito was seasoned with Satan.
Once they figured that out, we were just a hop, skip and four days of IVs, antibiotics, anti-diarhetics, anti-nausea pills, probiotics and plasma tranfusions away from good as new! The fact that we spent enough to purchase and care for three new dogs has not gone unnoticed. However, as the pet owners will agree, it didn’t really matter.
We were able to bring my little buddy home last night and I couldn’t be happier. Calvin has been resting comfortable in the bubble wrap cocoon in which he will be kept until further notice. He will be allowed out for Purell baths and Purell baths alone.
And now that this is all behind us, maybe my skin will stop breaking out since we all know that has been the REAL ISSUE at hand here. People really don’t consider the fragile state of my physical appearance when they lob these things at me out of the blue…
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