Amos spent the evening throwing up, so I spent the evening worrying. He threw up his dinner in five spells and then begged to go outside, where he ate dirt. Yes, dirt. Then he came back inside and threw up three more times before settling down in my lap.
How do you know if a puppy dog is ill?
Every once in a while, Amos will throw up what I believe is bile ... foamy yellow stuff. It comes in spates and then disappears for weeks or months on end. And every once in a while Amos will eat greenery outside and then come back inside to throw it up. It seems to me that he is purposefully eating something to empty his stomach.
For a while there, he spewed foul stuff on the carpet upstairs more times that I cared to experience. Then ... nothing. Every time I start to think I should take him to a vet, he is then fine for so long I forget about my worry. He has also never throw up after two meals in a row. By that I mean, once he eats again, Amos is fine.
He poops and pees and drinks fine. Is that an indicator of health? He frolics when I am not too weary to play. He will squeak one of his babies for well over an hour. Mostly, it seems that Amos, who believes everything in the world is up for consumption, will sometimes eat something that his stomach doesn't like so he will vomit until it is gone and then a bit more just to be on the safe side.
Does it make me a terrible puppy momma for not rushing him to the vet tonight?
I never knew that one could become so attached to a dog. Really, I thought I had a strong connection to Kashi and I didn't. Not like this. I was so ... afraid ... that something would be wrong with Amos during his first vet visit that I actually just didn't take him to the vet after I got him.
He was this ENORMOUS fluff ball, way bigger than any 10-week-old bichon poo ought to be. I was even shocked when I first saw him and wanted to protest his age. But I have the papers from his parents, 8 and 10 pounds. Somehow, they produced a 22-pound son, at least that's what Amos weighs now.
Even though he was GINORMOUS for an itty bitty puppy, Amos felt so fragile to me. I was scared to hold him or pick him up and fretted about him lots. My plan was to crate him, as I did Kashi, because I believe crating is good for a puppy. Amos, having never been confined in his life, was terrified and pooped and peed his crate and knocking against the sides to roll it over three different times before I gave up. Three baths. Three periods of hysteria. After the third bath, I thought: What is the worst that could happen if I put him in bed with me?
I was fearful I might smash him to smithereens, but I never did. Amos had plenty of siblings to drape himself over at his previous home and so he just did that in his new home until he got too big and decided curled up at my side or tucked up beneath my arm with his head on my shoulder was the place to be.
Yes, he has me wrapped around his little finger.
Still.
Anyway, Kashi was terribly ill the first year I had him, nearly dying until I discovered he had an hepatic shunt. I had a warranty on him, being a purebred, but the warranty consisted of them killing him and giving me another puppy. I stuck with Kashi and learned how to deal with his chronic illness.
[Hey! I just realized Kashi spent 15 years teaching me how to live with chronic illness!]
So, it might be a bit understandable that I was nervous about that first vet appointment, the one that was supposed to take place the first week I had him. I actually put it off and off and off until it was time to neuter Amos. Poor pup. His very first visit was filled with shots and a snip job.
All that is to say that I ... I ... I absolutely cannot fathom living this wretched life without Amos. I worry about that in small, quiet moments here and there. It crops up each time Amos throws up and I hold my breath for hours on end until I can convince myself that he is okay.
I don't mind a puppy dog whose place of safety is perched atop my shoulders, even if, as he has grown, that perching has become a bit more precarious. He makes do, though. Every time.
Amos has been sleeping for a couple of hours now. I have been watching him sleep, trying not to worry. I'll be glad when the morrow comes and he scarfs down his breakfast in record time, as usual, so that I can relax once more, knowing that my beloved Fluffernutter is just fine.
I hope....
Since time is so very fluid with me, I just thought to create a file in my MOST FAVORITE APP Awesome Notes under the Medical folder I keep. "Amos Vomiting." I recorded tonight's episode and will try (please help me remember this) to start a log of when he vomits so that when he sees the Vet the first week of May for his annual check-up I can be more specific about the frequency. I know he puked a short while ago, but then I think it hasn't happened since last fall, pre-pacemaker. SIGH. I sure do wish I had thought to start logging this rather disturbing event sooner.
Better late than never??????
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