OK, here it is. Bottom line. I did something horrible. BUT I COULDN'T HELP IT! And I swear! It was before you knew me!
It all started one morning when my mom was running late for work back in July 2009. But I didn't realize what a bad decision I made until I suffered the repercussions of it all a FULL YEAR LATER. I thought I was scott free! Until it all came back to bite me in my hairy arse. . .
The momma was running super late for work one morning, and she did something that she NEVER does. She left the bathroom door open! Oh my dog! I couldn't believe what I was seeing! A whole new world to explore while she was gone! I had a feeling that there was something awfully delicious in that bathroom. Something wildly exotic and delectable (like that fresh salmon my brothers from another mother eat up in Canada, when they're out and aboot, eh? Holla to my Canadian fans! Love that maple leaf!) Why else would she keep that room such a secret for so long? It was probably stocked to the gills with salmon (pun definitely intended) So, I did what any dog as intelligent as I am would do. . .I raided the place. To be honest, the toilet paper left my mouth feeling a bit dry and I needed something to cleanse my palate. Enter the bath tub. . .
There were a lot of super cool things in this tub and I knew all about it because one time when I was really little, my mom was swimming in there and I decided I should join her and she didn't notice until she got the shampoo out of her eyes that I was at her feet! I loved it! So, naturally I felt that after an appetizer of toilet paper I should go for a swim myself to work up an appetite. Except that there was no water in there guys. How BORING! She only keeps her swimming pool full for herself to swim in!? I really like my momma, but I have to tell you, I think that's really selfish of her. It's an issue I'm still trying to overcome through therapy, but doesn't every dog have their momma issues? I tried to figure out how to fill the pool up for myself and instead of figuring out how the water comes out, I found something amazingly chewy. It was so chewy I could only imagine that there had to be some really delicious juices in it once I released the rainbow of fruit flavor by chewing it as much as I could. Well, nothing came out, so I simply swallowed it. Whole.
The momma came home from work and I have no idea why, but she really seemed displeased with my home decorating skills in the bathroom. She took a quick inventory, and realized I had eaten her newly placed plastic drain hair catcher.
And she freaked. Not the yelling freak out, but you know that panicky thing that moms do? For days after my toilet paper raid, she kept sifting through my poop like a psychiatric patient. She even wore a headlamp at night so that she could see it better, but she never found anything. I tried to act totally normal, like nothing happened. She seemed pretty cool with me, and I was sure she wasn't upset with me anymore because a few days later she dropped me off at my most favorite place that I get to stay at when she goes on vacation. I remember that my friend who takes care of me followed me every time I pooped and looked through it just like my mom did. How embarrassing! Can't a man poop in peace? I mean, I know some dogs that need to bring the paper with them when they poop! But she didn't find anything, and my mom came home from her vacation and I remember overhearing her telling someone that "I must have passed it without anyone seeing it" because I was acting totally normal.
Here's where the scary part starts. . .
Fast forward to A YEAR LATER. July 2010. The momma and I move from New Jersey to Colorado, and we've only been there for about 3 weeks, and I start to feel really super sick. I was pretty sure that I had that pig flu thing that everyone was talking about. I mean, I thought I was dying. I kept trying to throw up because I felt so nauseous and nothing would come out but bile. I did this off and on for a few days until I felt so sick, that I stopped eating. I became very lethargic, I didn't want any water, and I just kept trying to throw up that pig.
One night, I was the most sick I've ever been and my mom was so scared that she was crying, she stuck that horrible cold thermometer up my you know what, and people, I don't know how she did it but she carried me into the car in the middle of the night because I was so weak that I could barely walk. She kept crying the whole way to the emergency room asking me to please be OK. And I was trying really hard to be strong for her. My mom and I were both really scared because we didn't know any emergency veterinarians out in Colorado, and we had made really good friends with a lot of doctors back in NJ, so all of these strangers kind of freaked her out. They poked me and pushed on my belly and took black and white pictures of my insides with x-ray machines and hooked me up to all these bags of water and told my mom they'd call her with any news, but that the outlook was grim. A couple of hours later, I heard the doctor on the phone with my mom telling her that they had to operate on me, and that she should come in right away. I was so tired guys, I wasn't even scared. The last thing I remember is my mom crawling into the kennel run that I was in hugging me and crying and begging the doctors to do a good job, and I could tell she was trying to act brave for me, but it wasn't working. I know that she was freaked the heck out.
And then. . .I woke up. The momma was in the kennel run with me again, and we were both lying on the sheepskin, and as soon as I saw her, I gave her the biggest lick that I could with my super dry crinkly tongue because I was so happy that I felt so well. I didn't feel that pig in my stomach anymore so I know that I got rid of that pig flu.
As soon as the momma pulled herself together she went out to talk to the doctor that we both had a crush on since he saved my life (HEY! I'm neutered! I'm an equal opportunity lover! Don't judge until you've had your own testicles taken out!). I saw him show her what they took out of my intestines. He used the word "obstruction" and then said after he removed the object that he performed the "gastropexy" that my mom asked him to do. We were all looking at the the object that my mom was holding in her hand, trying to figure out what the heck it was and then she screamed "HOLY Shiitake mushrooms!(the words she used were really bad, but I don't like mushrooms, so that's the worst word I thought that I could type out for my viewing audience)" when we figured it out. It was almost unrecognizable because it was bouncing around in my stomach for a year until my gastric acid hardened it up enough so that it could start to move down to my intestines. It wasn't the pig I thought it was at all guys. It was the FREAKING chewy plastic drain hair catcher! I thought that I did the crime and served my time, but it came back to get me!
This is what it looked like ONE YEAR LATER: It was 6 inches! Wedged in my intestines!
If you look really closely at the outline of it in this photo, you can see how my mom finally figured out what it was, see the outline of the stupid little suction bubbles around the outside of it? (sorry, my mom and I kind of hate it now, especially since she calls it an impulse buy...she was never good at waiting in lines to pay for stuff at the cash register):
A few days later I was home, and I didn't even care that I had staples running down my belly from my chest to my groin. I felt SO GOOD! Sure, I looked like a show poodle because of the way they shaved me at the hospital to put all of those tubes in me, but I felt more like a Newfoundland dog now than I had in a very long time. Poodle cut or not.
I had a brush with death my friends, and now I live each day as though it could be my last. A few months later I earned my water dog rescue title (WD) and I make sure I go visit sick people in the hospital every week who are as scared as I was when I was all alone in my hospital bed. I also get lots of treats and am spoiled rotten by my people and I love it. Oh, the momma also learned that she can't trust me around anything that might be delicious if she's not at home, and since she spent my college fund on my surgery, I now have to go to my bedroom (XXL crate) when she's not home. But I kind of like it in there because my baby brother can't steal my toys.
A very special thank you to all the doctors and techs who took such great care of me at
*we now return to our regularly scheduled light hearted hilarious posts*
like this, since we're no longer singing the blues:
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