I have so many friends who have been ill; I have flown so many prayers up to the Big Guy; I have even welcomed my friend Smoochy, and through it all I have never lost my “temper” or thrown a “tantrum.” Dogs do get older, they do get sick, and they do go to the Bridge. That is part of the deal we make when we are born. But when a young dog gets sick? I do not understand why young dogs take ill.
It has been more than a year since Angel Greta arrived at the Bridge: She was just a puppy. She ate a mushroom. She got sick, and she could not recover. It was so terribly sad. I promised I would never let another young friend cross the River of Life because they innocently ate something.
One of the world’s very best dog Moms, Mrs. Barbara, has been dealing with her beloved Josie, who had to have surgery to remove a tumor that had perforated her digestive system. The surgery saved her life. The doctor sent an eight-inch sample of her tumor to the lab. That is when life played one of its cruel tricks. The lab mislabeled Josie’s sample. The result of the test, a fast moving cancer, was incorrect. Sadly the vet does not know what type of cancer Josie has and until that is determined he does not know how to treat her.
But this is not about Josie. It is about her brother Moo. We have known Moo since the day he and his brothers Huck and Elvis were born. Collectively known as the Three Stooges, we have watched these little boys grow into house wrecking, barnstorming clowns. Through all the sad times we could always turn to the Boys for fun antics and a good laugh.
And then Moo ate a plant. A hydrangea plant to be exact. I love hydrangeas. Hobo Hudson’s parents sent my parents one after I went to the Bridge. It is the most beautiful plant in my memorial garden. It is also something else: Poisonous to dogs.
My parents were unaware that the plant is deadly to dogs, but neither Pocket, River Song, nor I bother with plants. But Moo did. He ate most of the plant. Then he became very sick. He would not eat; his poop was bloody, and the doctor was working desperately to get the poison out of his system.
I flew so many prayers up to the Big Guy for Moo that I was exhausted. But I still had a reserve of strength. A reserve to use if the doctors could not get the poison out of him. A reserve to rail at the Big Guy for letting another dog get sick doing what we do best: Eat. I went over what I would say to him. How I would convince him to heal Moo and keep him on the mortal side of the River of Life.
Thankfully I did not need to rail. The doctors flushed the poison from Moo’s system. He is home. He has lots of pills to eat, but that shouldn’t be a problem since he does eat everything.
We got a little miracle for Moo. Now we need a bigger miracle for Josie. Keep those prayers coming for Josie and all the baby dogs: Give them the wisdom not to eat the things that make them sick.
Pray for the Big Guy too. Because he does not want to see a railing Yorkie.