Our Moms are the May 12, 2013 Pups of the Week

Humans don’t like being called a dog.  I don’t know why.  I think everyone who visits this site would agree that there are few things a human can be called that is better than a dog:  Loyal, unconditionally loving, warm, funny, all the fine attributes of a dog, all attributes a human should aspire to.

So, on this Sunday, when I usually write about special dogs, I acknowledge our Moms, because they are loyal, love us unconditionally, keep us warm, do funny things, feed us, keep us clean, clean up after us and keep us healthy.

I know when we go somewhere like Petco, or the dog park, we are usually too overcome with smells and other dogs to listen to anything more than the basic commands.   But if you do listen to our Moms you will find that what they talk about the most is us.   And they are usually gushing over how much we mean to them, how well behaved we are, or, if not, how our bad behavior is charming.  

If you ever doubt how much your Mom loves you then let something go wrong:  have a loose stool, develop a limp, don’t eat a treat, then sit back and watch.  They start out just a little concerned, then they convince themselves there is nothing wrong while constantly watching you, then you do something like trip or yawn and your Mom slowly starts to panic.  A few minutes later she is searching Barney Google who gives her a long list of terrible things that might be wrong with you.  After that she is fretting over you, hugging you, crying, praying, and making an appointment with the vet where she has to pay money she doesn’t have to find out that there is nothing wrong with you.  And then you think they would be angry at you for separating them from their money for no reason, but instead they cry and are relieved that we are all right.  

Everyone agrees that we give unconditional love but we get it in return.  We may get even more than we give.   Mommies may get upset with us for a short while when we do little things like have an accident, eat their dinner off the counter or destroy the couch, butt doesn’t last too long. But, if you are like me, and your Mommy stays out a long time, or feeds us late, o ir gives us a bath, you are a full snitzy dog for hours.

John Lennon wrote that the love you take is equal to the love you make, and I used  to think that was only true with dogs, that we got the same amount of love as we gave, but, it being Mother’s Day, and on Mother’s Day all good children think of their Mom,  I realized that Mom’s always give more love than they take even from us dogs who were put on this Earth to love them.

So this is for our Moms, the greatest people in the world, who never get back the love they make, although us little dogs certainly try as hard as we can. Bless you all.

And Down goes Mommy

Oh my gosh, Sunday night, what an awful night.

Saturday night Mommy went out to eat with her children, grandchildren, and the ones who put the thingee in the bujeengee that makes babies.  She had gone on Thursday for a birthday dinner with Daddy and her brother and sister-in-law and on Friday for a birthday lunch with Daddy and her son.  I can't say for sure if what happened on Sunday was because the birthday angels were punishing her for over indulging in her birthday, or if the dog angels were punishing her for leaving us for a few hours over three days, like the talent angels have punished Lindsay Lohan after her totally awesome performance in Herbie Fully Loaded by making her sick, but whatever it was it wasn't good.

Early Sunday morning Mommy got out of bed and hurried to the bathroom.  Now, if you know my Mommy and her bad artificial knees you know she hurries like a penguin being chased across the ice by a polar bear.  She made it to the bathroom and womited,  She crawled back into bed, then, a short while later, gave an encore performance. then kept on going all morning until I woke up Daddy, nudging him, and saying "dude your wife has been puking all morning, you might want to check it out."

Daddy got up and Mommy said she did not feel good at all.  Daddy went out and got her some Ginger Ale and Saltines and some Charlemagne tea.  I don't know why.  We still have chicken and rice from the last time I got sick.  I told Mommy I could make her some but she said she didn't want it.  Well guess what?  Neither do I.  But when I'm sick it's all "it doesn't matter if you want to eat it it's good for you."  Geesh.

Daddy gave her some Ginger Ale and she sipped it.  I sat in the chair watching her because that's what Mommy does when I'm sick.  She sits there.  And looks at me.  Waiting for me to finish what I'm eating.  The difference?  I can't pick Mommy up, spin her butt around, make her face the other way, and tell her to stay.

Both Pocket and I could tell Mommy wasn't feeling well so we stayed close to her all day.  She kept womiting and continued to slowly rush to the bathroom.  She also had terrible back pain.  Daddy tried to put heat on it  but nothing worked.  I Googled back pain and vomiting.  I found a site that stated to relax, it would give me a reasonable answer to her health problems.  Then it told me Mommy was going to die.  I was quite frightened but Pocket typed in swollen toe and eye lash shedding and got the same answer.

Mommy, despite her illness, continued her Tanner duties.  Luckily she had Pup of the Week almost done Saturday.  But there are some subtle clues to her illness.  The beat this caption contest for this week is titled beat this question.  The question of the week is dated for January 2, 2012,  She made a comment on Hattie's page that was "Baaaaruuuuuggggggghhhhh!"

By night time it seemed like Mommy's tummy had settled down so we went to bed.  Mommy fell asleep, Daddy stayed up reading, I stayed on top of the covers.  My sensitive ears could hear the rumbling in Mommy's tummy and knew something bad was coming.  At 12:30 she awoke, looked at Daddy, said "I have to go mumble sideways in the underhill," stood, and moved quickly, walking into the TV, then on to the dresser, clearing the pictures from the shelf as she tumbled forwards, landing on my blanket.

Which she womited on while she lay on the floor.  My blanket!  Where I sleep!  Where my Pocket comes and plays with her toys!  Daddy stood up and ran to her.  I jumped off the bed and jointed him.  Pocket stood on the bed and went "HARRRRUUFFFF!  I am alone on the bed, I am the bed queen!"

Daddy used his tiny, emaciated man like strength to sit Mommy up with her back to the bed.  He asked her if she was all right.  She slumped down and womited some more.  Daddy said he was going to call 911.  I was against it.  If calling 911 couldn't get Guiliani elected President how could it help Mommy?  Mommy said no.  She actually said "No, horsie, sit, fog cue.,"  Daddy lifted her up and put her on the bed.  She slid off like a fish on a see saw.

Daddy caught Mommy and told her if she couldn't stand up right now he was calling 911.  He then grabbed her and yanked her up.  He put his feet under her feet, and pushed her forward slowly, like Tessio dancing with the little girl at the wedding (Two Godfather references in one blog, Zoe Boe:  Bazinga!)

He got her into the bathroom.  He eased her down to the floor next to the toilet with her back against the tub.  He then leaned her forward like priming a pump and then wham came the womit.

Daddy held her, and when she was done he asked her how many fingers he was and she correctly guessed three.  He then asked her if she knew what day it was and she said to calm down and get his s**t together.  Daddy knew she would be all right.

He grabbed my blanket, and the comforter, and put them in the washing machine.  I stayed with Mommy.  Daddy got the steam cleaner and went to work on the rugs.  He then went back to Mommy.  He helped her up and walked her back to the bed.  He put her in bed and tucked her in, he put me next to her to watch over her, then looked around.  No Pocket.  He went downstairs where Pocket had peed on the rug.  "Hey, I figured while you have the vacuum out....."  Daddy scooped her up, put her in bed, brought the vacuum downstairs and cleaned up her mess too.

Mommy was fast asleep when he got back upstairs.  Daddy didn't want her waking up so he tried to stay up, with his IPod cranked on loud, a book to read, and a Smart Phone to keep track of the world's activities.  He even had the gall to respond to something Otis had written as me!  Mommy womiting on my blanket!  Daddy posing as me on Tanner Brigade?  The entire system was breaking down.

I have vowed to keep an eye on him while he's on the computer for now on.

By morning Mommy was weak, and mortified, but not womiting.  She had some more Saltines.  On Tuesday Mommy went to the doctor.  She said she thought Mommy had either got a bug or eaten something that disagreed with her.  I don't know why she ordered bug in an Italian restaurant.

On Wednesday she went back to work.  Daddy drove her and we got to go with him when he picked her up.

We hope things are getting back to normal.  But let me tell you that was one scary night.

We don't have any video of the incident.  This is the closest we could find. Just say a prayer for Mom and for us that this doesn't happen again.