Our First Scare

It was bound to happen at some point. We had our first “uh-oh” puppy experience last night. I was already in bed when B returned from taking Scout out, bursting through the door and calling for me to help. She had been chewing on a rock (everything goes into the mouth), and B couldn’t get it out. As he held her, I pried her jaws apart, but the only thing I could see was her little pink tongue. We put her to bed, and B sped to the computer to search for a solution while I stared at her, waiting for her to do something out of the ordinary. A quick Google search told us that we needed to watch for vomiting and bloody stools. One person’s puppy had swallowed river rocks and required a thousand dollar surgery. Yikes! We exchanged a look as we climbed into bed. We sat there for a few minutes, worrying it over. I remember saying, “This would be a lot easier if she could just speak in English.” All we could do was wait…

Fast forward a few hours, and I had Scout outside in the grass at 12:30 am for our customary bathroom break, except this time I’m crouching in flip flops, staring at her stool, trying to determine if it has blood on it or not (a flashlight would have been handy, but you don’t think of those kind of things at 12:30 in the morning). Eventually I deemed it blood-free, and we headed back to bed.

I woke up at 7, momentarily blissful. Man, I felt rested. Then I realized that Scout hadn’t woken me up to use the bathroom after our 12:30 outing, and she’s been on an 11 pm, 2:30 am, 5:30 am rotation all week. I peered into her crate. She wasn’t moving. The first thought that flew through my head: Oh my God, we’ve killed her. Or if we hadn’t, that rock had.

But we hadn’t, and neither had the rock. It never did show up, so maybe she hadn’t swallowed it after all. We’ll never know. Scout is just fine, her normal, cheerful self today, and B and I have learned what to look for when your almost-seven-week-old puppy possibly swallows a rock. Who knew we’d need such knowledge?

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