A little over a week ago, I made a comment to one of our friends that the dog was on a “trial period” of about 2 weeks. I wasn’t going to pass any judgment, one way or the other, until the 2 weeks was over. At the time of her adoption, she seemed like a dream dog. But I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. First impressions are rarely entirely accurate.
I’m pretty sure she heard me.
Exactly 24 hours after the two-week mark (and, consequently, 24 hours after I had graced her with, “I guess you passed”), Sasha began experiencing some fabulous digestive issues. They have since increased in nature and severity. The other shoe has dropped, as they say.
Several problems present themselves:
1) I sincerely dislike the vet. Taking her to the vet would not only be costly (probably), but almost certainly unpleasant. I feel nearly certain that I would leave with rebukes stinging my ears, and a hefty bill (including surgery perhaps?) stinging my wallet.
2) Generally, I’m not a patient person when it comes to dealing with, or cleaning up after, the messes of others (be they human or hound). My MO is to put as much distance as possible between me and the offending party. Call me a terrible person, but I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t had several moments of regret over, “let’s get a dog!!!” Especially now that we’re on our second container of carpet cleaner in three days.
3) NO IDEA what’s causing the issues. Lack of knowledge/control is the polar opposite of my favorite thing. It could be several things, including but not limited to a) crappy dog food. (I made the mistake of buying the Wal-Mart special, after she had been eating über-swanky Science Diet for a week with no problems); b) drinking from the municipal pond (which is really just run-off from the big warehouse stores like Wal-Mart and Lowe’s); c) housing nearly an entire rawhide bone a day.
At this point, I’m see-sawing between feeling terribly, horribly responsible for whatever is going on in the dog’s GI tract and feeling overwhelmingly consumed with rage and resentment because I’ve been glued to her for the last 3 days with the mistaken belief that my powers of observation will somehow effect a cure. Sasha’s total lack of concern or distress (she’s loving the extra attention) is not helping AT ALL.
So, I’ve pretty much already set upon a plan of action. She gets at least two days on the new, high-quality diet (sans poison-pond-water) before I attempt to schedule an appointment at the vet’s. She stays in the crate unless she’s outside, because I’m tired of deep-cleaning the carpet right after I wake up in the morning. And I buy some high-quality, low drag chew toys online or something, because Wal-Mart is not to be trusted with this kind of thing.
Suggestions are requested and appreciated. Prayers, too. God help me if I ever bear a child.
PS: My husband rocks. 10 minutes after I finished writing this post, he got home from work, with a surprise present for me. Isn’t he AWESOME?!