Will he die...

The other day I heated up some less-than-economical preservative free stew.  The container was two servings.  I put them in two dishes.  After eating one helping, I put the cover onto the empty dish and placed it in the refrigerator.  The full dish went into the sink with all the other dirty dishes.  I discovered my mistake only after I started in on the sink full of dirty dishes and noticed bits of stew floating around.

Two lessons I have failed to teach Amos: 1) to stop vigorously defending his territory when anything crosses in front of our house (I actually prefer the notification but believe rather strongly about 5 seconds is long enough.  Amos disagrees.); and 2) to "drop" or "give" his baby when playing fetch.  I have, quite successfully, taught Amos to take his monthly heart worm and flea prevention pill without question.

Amos has been exceedingly accommodating to my ever-changing sleeping and comforting-in-my-misery needs.  In return, no matter how much I am struggling, I try to feed Amos between 5 and 6 in the morning.  And I have also moved a second bowl of water into the bedroom.  When I get up to fetch ice packs or Ginger ale or medication and Amos waits on me, I will often bring him back 2 or 3 peanuts as a reward.  He has learned that when I turn off the white noise sound machines, my Sleep Mate, it is time actually get out of bed.

Yesterday was a rough innards day.  Last night was a rough innards night.  This early morning was still a rough innards time.

Just as I have worked hard to keep Amos' meals on a schedule, I have worked to keep my own medication on a schedule.  I am far, far better at the former than the latter.  But my morning medication is my most consistent dose.

This morning, I fetched new ice packs, three peanuts, and my three morning medications: baby aspirin, Loestrin, and 200mg of Celebrex.  As I always do, I put the peanuts on the bed before Amos and reached for my water to take my pills.  Only what I had left in my hand were the peanuts.  Amos, being an obedient puppy, had eaten the pills I placed before him.

I cannot imagine getting through the days I face without that fluffy, white, affectionate shadow.  I cannot.

Hysterical, I Googled.  The treatment it seems would be to give him three tablespoons of hydrogen peroxide to induce vomiting.  I just couldn't bring myself to do that or imagine how I even could get him to consume it.  I was hysterical because there would be no scooping up my beloved puppy and racing him to a veterinarian.  Some time between his 6:00 AM feeding and my 12:00 PM stumbling to get my own medication, the clouds dumped copious amounts of snow here.

I found several places where it was recommended to give him activated charcoal and then Pepcid for a few days.  I gave him first one and then another of my activated charcoal capsules.  The second one was because I was so worried about his 22.5 lb body (that I suspect is actually a tad bit heavier) having such a large dose of Celebrex.  I do not have Pecid here, but I do have Tums.  Apparently, breeders give dogs Tums for the calcium.

Weeping, I curled my body around Amos until I calmed down enough to call Bettina and ask her to pray for my puppy.  Mostly, I am so terrified now, I have no tears.  Will he die?

I do not know how long it will be until I know if his kidneys and/or liver will fail.  I do not know how long it will be until I know if his stomach was damaged and he is bleeding from an ulcer.  I do not know how long it will be until I know if he is going to die.

Will he die?

I make so very many mistakes.  Despite the signs, I leave the oven and stove on, the refrigerator and freezer doors open, and the front and back doors unlocked (the latter oft standing wide open when I come down in the early morning).  I forget so much, the blankness in my mind greater than the clarity of even the recent past.  I thought I had taken my medication.  I thought I was handing him a reward.

Did I hand him his death?

I fainted six times trying to shovel the walk.  The car and street around it are still buried.  I am so weak and tremulous that I can barely move.  All I can do is wait.

And pray.


Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.