“Skin and Bones”
This is Cosmo the Dogg:
He is, ordinarily, an angel. And by “angel”, I do mean “mostly a pain in the ass, but he’s too cute to get mad at”. He’s basically a human. And basically my favorite person on the planet (mostly because he doesn’t talk back or express any opinions that would be contrary to my own).
Last night, his father had chicken wings for dinner. This ritual of eating hot wings takes place during finals when Brando is bored and playing marathon games of PS3 or Guitar Hero. The man likes his chicken wings the same way he likes his women: hot. (Now that’s funny, I don’t care who you are.)
I threw away the bones, per usual, in the trash and set the full trash bag on the floor for my wing-eating husband to take out the next morning. Might I add that throwing away those chicken bones takes a massive amount of love — I’m a vegetarian. He never needs to doubt my love for him, if only by this act.
Well, Cosmo the dogg, being the angel that he is never disturbs the trash. He is, after all, mostly human and wouldn’t really stoop to the level of going through trash for food. He would much rather just whine and scratch at the treat pantry until I give in and give him a
Pupperoni. However, last night he obviously had other plans.
Around 11:00 p.m. he hops on the bed (using stairs that lead up to the mattress made by his grandpa — what? He only weighs 6.5lbs, he can’t jump up there from the ground!) with a FULL gut. And I mean full. So, I go into the living room to see what he could have gotten into. Then I see it: the trash has been scattered all over. Then it hits me: chicken wing bones. I look at the ground in the living room and they are EVERYWHERE. There had to be 15-20 little chicken bone wings with the ends gnawed off so that they now look like little gut-tearing toothpicks.
*oh fudge* — only I didn’t say “fudge”.
I run to the bedroom. Of course, hubby is sound asleep at this point due to too much PS3 and too many chicken wings. I wake him up holding the little toothpick bones and say “Cozi ate the chicken bones.” He then said “fudge.”
Cosmo was acting OK, but kept clearing his throat and sounding generally congested. After trying to get him to eat some bread (that’s right, his mom knows how to google!), we figured he just wanted to go to sleep and his throat probably hurt from the hot sauce on the wings. Cosmo went to sleep and, after about 2 hours, so did I (waking up every few hours to check on him, of course). Finally it was morning and Cosmo was acting…well…not weird…but not himself.
He kept licking his lips and clearing his throat and acting antsy. Poor baby. I decided that taking him to the vet was the safe way to go. I called the vet to see if we could get in with no appointment due to his ‘urgent’ condition. They asked me “What urgent condition?” I said, “Oh, he got into some chicken bones last night.” They said, and I quote: ”Oh my god, get him in here right away.”
I swear, had you been in a one mile vicinity, you could have heard my panic set in.
We took him in where they said they would have to keep him for observation and take x-rays to see if he would be okay, or if he could be a candidate for a surgery if he needed it.
*Passing Out*
Did I mention that I have a Community Property Final on MONDAY? A final that I have put off studying for until TODAY. Yeah, that’s shot to hell.
Needless to say, it was hard to leave my li’l guy. He was a sick baby (involving a trip to puppy ER in the middle of the night) and he hates to be left for any amount of time. He’s a mama’s boy, what can I say.
After waiting and waiting, I finally call the Doc to see if I can come pick him up. He says he’s getting ready to take his lunch. He asks me to wait about another hour. Then, 5 minutes later he calls again and says “Actually, why don’t you come down here now, I want to talk to you about these xrays”.
My heart cannot take much more of this.
Driving no less than double the speed limit, we get to the vet in record time wherein I crowd 2 little old ladies with their brand new kitty to get to the counter first.
“I’m here for Cosmo”, I say.
They take us to exam room #3 and bring me my pups. Doc says the xrays look fine. We got lucky because the bone had already been passed into the colon. I guess the risky part is when it is going from throat to stomach and stomach to small intestine. And can I just say that his xray was ADORABLE. I mean, his little bones weren’t any bit bigger than the ones he ate!
So, I did what every pet owner would do and I basically cried with relief. Then I went and bought him a brand new toy and a argyle sweater vest. That’s right — a sweater vest. He looks like
Teen Wolf in it.
And don’t go talkin’ to me about how it’s ridiculous to dress dogs up. I don’t “dress him up” — I just put a polo on him every now and again. Halloween is for dress up.
So, we have to observe him and his poops for the next few days and make sure he’s A-OK. We get to give him meds twice a day — he’ll love that.
The moral of the story is two-fold: (1) don’t leave your garbage out for even the most well-behaved/civilized dog to get into; and (2) I am not ready for children yet.
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