Since my kids left home, I have become the crazy lady on the dog training shows who talks baby talk and kisses her dog on the mouth. You just want to reach into the TV and slap some sense into them.
My dog gets chicken breast strips as a reward for peeing! If he poops, I look at the pile as if it were a round-trip ticket to Fiji and enthusiastically say, “Look what you made me!” It’s not that different from when I was potty training the kids and had the M&Ms handy for that breakthrough moment. But if I’m going down for riding the canine crazy train, I’m taking my friend with me. She has a Great Dane who gets venison and beaver meat dog food.
By the way, while doing research for this blog, I found a website that sells the 2011 Dog Poop Calendar: perfect for that office party gift exchange this Christmas. But I digress.
Tuesday, Colt had a mild seizure. I am proud to say that I did not leap over the coffee table and sprint to his side (not that I could do either without having to change my underwear). I didn’t break the sound barrier driving him to the vet’s. I merely called my veterinarian, explained the situation, calmly listened to his assessment, hung up the phone, and freaked out. Happily, I was able to maintain a calm appearance as I soiled myself.
Sure, he may never have another seizure. That didn’t stop me from canceling all appointments, snuggling with the dog all night on the sofa, and keeping him with me when I went to the bathroom. God help us if he sneezes.
If I’ve learned anything from this, it’s that I can differentiate between people emergencies and dog emergencies, I should probably knock off the mouth kissing, and I really want the dog poop calendar for our Red Hat Christmas party.