Common Sense

My beloved puppy Cherub Rock is sick. We noticed this morning that he didn’t really want to move or come when you call him, which is very unlike him. He craves attention and he’ll stand on top of The Jesus to get petted first.

He also hasn’t eaten since yesterday. He looks so emaciated; I can wrap my hands around his waist. He’s breathing heavy, but he won’t open his mouth to pant and let out the heat. He’ll slowly walk over to the water bowl, dip his head in, but he won’t drink anything. He won’t even eat his favorite treats.

Space Monkey thinks it may be because Common Sense Mom has yet to take him for his shots. He’s 10 weeks, so he could have Parvo.

Mom is taking both dogs to the vet tomorrow to check, though one of the symptoms I just read about is diarrhea. I don’t think that applies to Chubs. He has a very specific area of the yard that he goes in and I didn’t notice anything extra or new. Especially, not bloody.

We may luck out. He may have found something in the backyard that he chewed on or drank that made him sick. A trip to the vet could tell and a good flushing out of his system and plenty of clean drinking water might just be the thing. I can hope and pray that this is more related to the puddles of dirty water in the backyard from the recent rain than from a deadly virus.

If something were to happen to him, I would be inconsolable. He’s my baby. Since day one I’ve snuck him into my bed to sleep with me, to pet him, hug him, give him sugars. The Jesus was always the family dog. I showed up one night and we had a dog all of a sudden with him. Chubs actually walked over to me and I picked him out. He is my dog; my baby.

I know that if he died, Mack would probably offer to let me have another one of Chubs’ littermates, but I could never have another dog. At least not for a long time. It would hurt too much. I’d have to get a goldfish or something to take my mind off it.