The Ballad of the Sock
So why haven’t you heard from me for the last few days? Well, I made a mistake. Ate something that, while tasty and satisfying, wasn’t very good for me. And especially not good for my small intestine, where it got lodged and backed things up.
Yes, folks, I ATE A SOCK.
On Wednesday evening, I was puking. And puking. And puking. And puking some more. Mum immediately bundled me up and got me to PVSEC, the emergency vet, unsure exactly what was wrong. They apparently see this kind of thing on a regular basis, so an x-ray was in order. Which clearly showed that something – unknown at this point – was clogging up my intestines. I had to spend the night there to see if it would find it’s way toward the light on it’s own (either front or back entrances), but alas, in the morning it was still stubbornly in exactly the same spot.
So I was off to surgery.
The doctors removed the offending object – now identified as a black sock – as well as tacking down my stomach (as I am a deep-barrel-chested boy this will prevent bloat in the future) and the ultimate insult, they neutered me. Now, I’m not against neutering by any stretch, but it wasn’t exactly in my plans right now, and well, nobody asked.
Spending the next 2 days in hospital was wearing me down. Yes, of course I needed to heal, but damnit I wanted to be home with mum and the kitties, convalescing in my own bed (mum’s bed) and getting my homemade food. Apparently the hospital thought something might be off because I wasn’t eating while there – like I said, I don’t do dog food – so mum made a special trip with a tupperware-care-package of chicken and veg soup. And a jar of chicken baby food. Which I immediately devoured.
So Saturday morning, she came to spring me from the pokey. I was so stupidly happy to see her, I immediately did all of the things I’ve been told not to do for awhile – jumping, getting excited, generally moving quickly. But in that moment, I didn’t care. I was just so happy to see her I grabbed a full box of tissues on a table and paraded around that exam room in triumph.
Now I am home. We had a nice, relaxing day yesterday with much sleeping and snuggling on the floor. And a complicated medication schedule eased by mum’s mini-spreadsheet on the refrigerator and copious amounts of squeeze cheese in the can. I’m on the mend. I even pooped this morning despite the doctor telling mum that I won’t go for 3-7 days. Come on, who can hold their poop for that long? And apparently it passed mum’s “poop test”, so things are going in the right direction this time.
Thanks to all who have been following my saga on Facebook. Mum was too overloaded to update here (and will be disciplined for such). If you’d also like to follow me there, just check out www.facebook.com/mrottofizz .
Off for a snooze now. You know, healing work.