River Song is Worried Sick

I have always suffered from separation anxiety.  I cannot tolerate being separated from my parents.   They have tried to contain me in several different manners, but they have all proven futile. They put me in the laundry room behind a five-foot high fence.  I pushed off my three-inch legs and scaled it.  When they put me in a plastic crate, I stuck my little paw through the crate door and opened it.  I did the same with the wire crates, and also forced my head through the top of the wire crate and got out.  No cage can hold me.

My parents determined I would be less of a danger to myself if I were given free reign of the living room and kitchen while they were out.  Pocket stays happily in her crate, inside her kitty condo.

While they are gone I pace, I look out windows, I get on table tops, I fret, and I worry.  What I don’t do is go to the bathroom, which is good, or drink water, which is bad.

The Sunday before Memorial Day my parents went to a cookout without me.  I don’t know why.  It is a cook OUT!  I would have been good.  They left Pocket and me at home.  They didn’t come back until it was almost dark.  I was very worried.  It took me an hour to settle down after they returned.

On Saturday I worried myself sick.  My parents were gone for five hours.  I had not prepared myself for their lengthy absence.  I should have made sure my bowels were empty before they left.  Nothing makes bowels slip out of you like worry.  Sometime during the five hours, I doubled.  A lot.  I made a Jackson Pollock painting of poop on my pee pad.  When that was full, I let more artwork by the TV.  I think I pooped out more than my body weight.

Now, I not only had to be worried about my parents being gone but about how they would react to my poop decorations.  I was concerned and ashamed.  I paced between the windows while my worry gene triggered my drool mechanism.  I was too upset to drink water.

When they arrived, I barked happily.  As they were opening the front door, I jumped two feet in the air to see them through the door window.  When they got inside, they did not pick me up, or touch me.  They tried to play it cool.  Daddy leashed Pocket and me, and we went out to do our business while Mommy cleaned my droppings.  I was so relieved that they were home and I wasn’t in trouble. Then I realized I was thirsty.  When I got inside, I drank a whole big bowl of water.

Five minutes later I spit up a puddle of water, a few second later another puddle.  Ten minutes later came a full vomit and three then more vomits and diarrhea.  I couldn’t settle down.  I just kept walking around the house.  I had worried myself sick.

And this made my parents worried sick.  Logically they knew I was reacting from my separation anxiety.  But parents never think logically.  They began to fret that I had swallowed something that had caused a blockage.

They decided to take me for a walk.  That got all the anxiety out of my body, and I stopped vomiting.  I had a small plate of turkey which I kept down, and later that night some more turkey and kibble and kept that down.  By the end of the night, they determine the crises had passed.

My parents don’t know if I drank too much water and began throwing that up then that triggered me bringing stuff up from my stomach, or that I became dehydrated from drooling and ignoring my water then drinking too quickly when they got home.  So they bought me a new, smaller water dish.  That doesn’t seem a good way to combat dehydration to me but what do I know?

They are also concerned about how to combat my separation anxiety.  They might consult a vet for medication.  I don’t want to be drugged.  I do have the perfect solution.

My mom can never leave the house again.