How many times have you heard the expression, "You know what they say..."?
Probably a lot.
You know how they say that if you want a dog (or any pet for that matter), you should get a plant first? You know how they say that if you want to have a baby, you should get a pet first?
Well. Let me just say that in the last two days, Brock is giving us lots of practice for future children and the sometimes really unpleasant things that come along with raising kiddos (and, apparently pets!).
My parents trade-off checking on the puppies during the day. The poor crazies are in their cages for 9+ hours and my parents are gracious enough to let them out to do their business and run around for a few minutes.
Yesterday, I had a voicemail from my mom that went something like, "Uhhhh, hi? It's me. I'm at your house. Brock got really sick. Really sick. Uhhhh, I'm not sure what to do. I'm going to do the best I can. Uhhhh, call me?"
While I was dialing her back, I had a wicked fast daydream that included me answering the phone to hear, "Uhhh, yes. Mrs. Peters? Yes, This is the school nurse. Little Billy/Susie is violently projectile vomiting and scaring the other little children. You need to come get them immediately."
My poor Mom answered and began to tell the tale of what she found when she came into our house. I will spare you the details, but I'm pretty sure she will be haunted for the rest of her life.
The poor big guy is sick, sick, sick. And we have done a lot of cleaning, cleaning, cleaning in the last 24 hours.
Last night didn't go so well and I ended up calling the vet bright and early this morning for an over-the-phone consultation and an invitation to be at his office at 8am.
I swear we are putting at least one of his kids through college between Brock and Sonny.
I then called into work to say that I would be in late because I had to take Brock in. My team lead is a dog-lover too, so she understands, but I feel so stupid saying, "Brock is really sick..." like he's our child.
I picked him up from the vet this afternoon with a heap of medicine, a very large bill, and instructions to keep him quiet and calm. This guy? Yeah, right.
Let's hope tonight (and tomorrow) are a big turn around for the big fella. I don't think I could handle any more of the last 24 hours. I have enough future-baby-practice, for now.