Blue is super sick. He’s been having uncontrollable diarrhea for the last 24 hours despite having nothing to eat or drink. I don’t know if it’s the routine Great Dane sketchy stomach that will resolve itself with rice and yogurt, or if he got into the compost and picked up some nasty bacteria that will clear up with a very expensive course of antibiotics, or something else.
My poor baby is miserable. He’s on his bed with a blanket on him to keep him warm. Loony is sleeping next to him fully dressed and with his boots on and they both look exhausted.
Of course this started at 2AM on Saturday night. We hoped that by now he would be feeling better. At 8AM I’m showing up at my vet’s door.
My back is wrecked from lugging a rented rug shampoo machine up and down the stairs. Not a single room has been spared. Last night I stood up from bed keenly aware that if I moved even an inch in the wrong direction my back would go completely out, but at least I got some sleep.
Loony had a migraine yesterday but soldiered on as he always does. He didn’t get much sleep and I could tell by the smell that he’d been cleaning up accidents all night. Our life is literally a shit show. And I mean literally.
I don’t know how Loony is holding it together; taking care of his mom is tough. Her bathroom needs to be cleaned several times a day. This he does with no fanfare or complaining. He patiently repeats himself when she asks the same question over and over. He allays her unfounded anxieties.
“Someone stole my swimsuit!”
“No mama. It’s okay, I put it in the wash.”
Ten minutes later. “I’ve been looking all over, someone stole my swimsuit!”
After spending all day with her, I’m ready to tag out after dinner. Not because I don’t like her, but all day is a long time to spend with anyone. So I retreat to my room and go to bed early and he spends the next several hours watching Antique Roadshow with her. His life is work and then his mother. We see each other at dinner and that’s about it. It’s not much of a relationship but I’m not sure how to remedy it.
He does this with a perfectly calm exterior but I know this must be tearing him apart. I try to get him to talk about it but he brushes it off.
I love my Blue dog. I love him so much. He is the sweetest, most loyal, most gentle dog in the world. I hope that whatever is wrong with him is a minor thing (maybe it was that rawhide I gave him on Friday?) and not catastrophic. I just want him to feel better.
I love my mother-in-law. She has been nothing but kind, generous, supportive and loving to me from day one. She always wants to help. I don’t want her to feel scared, disoriented, and confused but there is nothing I can do for her but let time run its brutal course. We are all helpless in the face of time.
I love my husband. I want his load to be lighter. I want him to have a taste of the man and the woman we both were years ago when our biggest decision was whether we should got to The Trident or Vic’s for coffee.
And me? I wake up in the morning but I’m not tired, I’m well rested. But I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to go to the gym even though my body is going to shit. I’m not walking my usual three miles a day because my walking buddy, Blue, can’t go on long walks anymore and I really needed him to motivate me. I mean to eat well but food is so soothing, it’s hard to stop once I start. And Tabby is out of town.
I know things will feel different once the sun comes up but what I wouldn’t do for everyone to just feel a little better.