
A cat may have nine lives, but this is now true for dogs. Or at least in my experience.
Around a month ago, I happened to find a beautiful standard poodle posted on Facebook, destined to be rehomed. She reminded me of my precious sheepadoodle, Bailey, who is a loving three-year-old girl. Their color and markings were too similar. I just had to rescue this pup.
Within hours, Lola was at my doorstep, and both dogs got along great. But Lola is young, and a little mischievous at one year old. Seven days later, I realized the level of her mischief when I woke up to the sickest dog I ever encountered.
It began with the sound of a dog about to heave. You know that sound which brings you directly to attention and onto your feet? Luckily, I got Lola outside in time. However, her stomach sickness worsened. Within an hour she had lost control in all directions – and it was gross, runny, and the smell was rancid.
My concern heightened, and I called veterinarian offices. Unfortunately, with rural life, most offices are 45 minutes or more away. Plus, we were on the brink of the weekend and the New Year. Appointment times were practically unavailable, and I had no idea how I would travel with a dog so sick.
I followed their professional recommendations and administered stomach medicine and electrolyte drinks.
Amidst this fiasco, an unavoidable errand came up. I had no choice but to leave the house for a bit, so I kenneled Lola. We were gone no longer than an hour. When we returned, the kennel was a complete bloody mess. Fortunately, Lola was alive, but she was super sick.
I made more calls to my family, another vet’s office, and the local director of our humane society. I also researched symptoms, and we all determined that it had to be Parvo or some contagious parasitic issue.
Plus, I had no way to prove otherwise. The Facebook transaction to rehome Lola did not include shot records. Lesson learned. Get shot records.
That is when the goal shifted to containing Lola outside to protect Bailey from this suspected sickness. Honestly, I was afraid we were going to have to put Lola down. We all cried, then we made a trip to the store for a possible remedy and to replace contaminated dog bowls and toys.
To our surprise, we came home to find a much happier Lola. She trotted around the corner, spunky and tail wagging. We embraced her. Then, upon investigation, I discovered exactly what made Lola so sick.
Indeed, it was not a parasite. Rather, it was a small, thin article of clothing she had eaten then horridly digested. Yet, another lesson learned – all laundry must make it to the hamper.
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