February 8, 2005 ~ The Horror, the Horror
Tuesday.
Phone call from Morgan, yesterday, a little after 4:00pm:
Morgan:
"Hi Girly. I just had a delicious snack, and now I'm overlooking the marina. A seal just surfaced next to me. Oh, and lunch was amazing. It was held in the restaurant that's in the rotating top of this high-rise, and it was incredible food and free drinks. Since it rotates, half of the time I was looking at the ocean and half of the time I was looking at the Marina. It's 75 degrees, and beautiful... What are you doing?"
Me:
"Well, I'm holding Rose down in the bathtub while I scrub the shampoo into her coat to work the diarrhea out."
"Oh... No. What happened?"
"Came home after work and she, and her crate, and the floor surrounding it, and the rug, and your desk, and the wall were coated in diarrhea."
"God. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well. Think she may have ate some, too."
"Oh yuck. Sorry I'm not there to help."
"I think she has what Monty had last week."
"Yeah."
"The bedroom smells awful."
"I'll bet."
"Gonna let you go. Kinda hard to hold the phone and wrestle Rose and clean her all at once. She already escaped once. Tracked diarrhea water all over the bathroom and bedroom."
"Oh, shit..."
"Well, at least she didn't shake."
"I'm sorry! Why'd you leave the bathroom door open?"
"Had to keep an eye on Monty."
"Everything is cleaned up?"
"Yeah, except for Rose. Gonna go."
At around 5, my phone rang again.
Me:
"Hi. Guess what smells worse than a room full of dog diarrhea?"
Morgan:
*groan*
Me:
"A room full of VOMITED dog diarrhea."
"Oh, God. How bad?"
"Two huge puddles of it. One on the hardwood floor, one on the rug. A little on the bed..."
"Jesus."
"Yeah, she started heaving and I was still in my underwear from giving her a bath. By the time I'd thrown on some pants and a shirt, slipped on my shoes..."
"God."
"I had to throw Rose in the outdoor pen until she gets it out of her system. She's thrown up several times. I was cleaning it up and just retching the whole time. Couldn't help it. Monty was very concerned."
"Monty's inside?"
"In his crate, for now. Until I figure out what to do. I don't know how I'm going to medicate her. It took both of us to get any Pepto down Monty's throat."
"Well. Good luck."
"Yeah..."
"I've got to go. They're taking us out to dinner at the most expensive restaurant in the city."
"Well. Enjoy it."
"Um... You can have some leftover chili, Girly!"
"Oh, that sounds SO appetizing, after what I just scooped and scrubbed up. About the same color and consistency!"
"Sorry... Maybe a veggie burger?"
"I... don't think I'll be able to eat for a while. But have fun."
"I'm sorry! I wish I was... Um. I wish you were here!"
"Yeah, so do I. Love you."
Come 11, my phone rang again.
Morgan:
"I just got back from dinner! They let us order whatever we wanted off of the menu. My meal would have cost me over $200, had I paid for it. I had a margarita, an appetizer, an entrée, shared a bottle of wine with the two other people at my table, a dessert, and a glass of port. Oh... It was incredible. Best meal I've had in... well, maybe ever."
Me:
"Wow. That sounds great!"
"Um... How are you?"
"Well, there's pepto bismol all over the living room and Rose..."
"Ugh."
"Rose looks like a little kid who got into mommy's bright pink lipstick. Pepto is all over her face, her mouth, her throat, her legs and paws... there's even some on her belly and tail. I'm trying to clean it off with a washcloth. And... Well, I'll get the couch later. The floor's clean!"
"How'd you get her to take it?"
"Well, turned out Nancy was coming over anyway, so we held her down and shot it down her throat. But, obviously, she managed to spit a ton of it everywhere."
"How is Rose?"
"Every time I take her out, she squirts a stream of clear liquid about five feet out her rear."
"Ugh."
"Yeah, she got my shoes and pants."
"Oh, honey. I'm sorry."
"At least she's having to go less and less frequently. I'm keeping her hydrated."
"Good."
"I'm sure it's the same thing Monty had. Some sort of virus. Her gums look good, nose and eyes too. Pretty sure she doesn't have a fever. Same as Monty. This'll probably have run it's course by the time you get home tomorrow night. I'm keeping an eye on her, though. If it gets worse and doesn't clear up like Monty's did, she's going to the vet tomorrow. Poor little girl."
"Right. Well... I hope you can get some sleep tonight."
"Ha! Right."
This morning, my phone rang around 10:00.
Morgan:
"Hey. I'm on break. How was your night?"
Me:
"Rose is a little bastard."
"Uh oh..."
"Well, I put her in Monty's crate for the night, since her crate is still out in the yard, covered in poop, since it got dark before I finished cleaning the rug and floor and desk and wall and dog. I figured that she'd ask to go out when she needed to, and figuring also that if she didn't, at least it would be much easier to clean his crate than the rug or the wall or the bed..."
"Yeah."
"Well. She asked to go out all right. Every fifteen minutes to a half an hour."
"But you got her out in time?"
"Yeah. Every time, I'd throw on my clothes and shoes and run out the door with her. In time for her to sit down on her butt and look up at me grinning. 'Gee. It sure is nice out here. Thanks for taking me on a walk in the middle of the night.' And then she'd just look around, look at the sky, watch the wind in the trees, sniff the air."
"Oh great."
"Yeah. I'm SO glad she's learned that trick, lemme tell you. Told her about this fable that the wolves at the rescue had told me. It's called, *The Wolf Who Cried Boy.* This wolf kept letting off the alarm to his pack that the humans were coming, the humans were coming! Everybody would wake up and run around on alert, looking for the human, and they'd realized that he just liked to see the whole pack run around in a frenzy. There never really were any humans. So, after several false alarms, they started to ignore him. Well, one night, there really *was* a human coming. And he yelled out, 'The humans are coming! The humans are coming!' The pack ignored him as they always do, and the human came and killed him."
Morgan giggled. "I think you're a little delirious from lack of sleep."
"Well, I told Rose that I wasn't sure, but it seemed that I'd heard a variation of that fable, called, *The Wolf Who Cried Poop." This little wolf would bang on her crate and cause an ungodly racket so that her alpha would jump out of bed, throw some clothes on backwards, trip over the little wolf's chew toy and smack her hip on the desk in the dark, run to the crate and let the little wolf out (who was trying to hide her snickers). They'd go on a little walk around the yard, but the alpha would soon realize that the little wolf had given a false alarm. This displeased the alpha greatly. Well, eventually, the alpha no longer took the little wolf's pleas seriously. The little wolf really did have to go, though, and she ended up covered in diarrhea. I told Rose that I knew a certain little dog who was very much like that little wolf..."
"Girly, you're silly."
"No, I'm dead tired. Around five, I finally gave up, and let her lay on the rug next to the bed. I kept a leash on her so that I'd wake up if she started wandering. She didn't ever have to go, though. She was perfectly happy to let the rest of us sleep if she could be out of the crate. Good grief."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Well. Looks like the worst of this is over, at least. All of the towels and rags are dirty, and I've been out of paper towels since yesterday afternoon, but I can't leave them to run to the store, since her crate is still in the yard (I'm going to go clean that, soon). Best I can do is do a ton of laundry and hope she doesn't have another accident before the towels dry. You sleep well? Have a good breakfast?"
"Yeah, this is a NICE hotel. Top luxury. And they keep feeding us amazing food at every opportunity."
"Good. I'm glad you're having such a good time."
"Sorry you're having such a shitty one... Literally."
"Har har."
"Love you, Girly. I'll see you at the airport tonight."
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