I was sicker than a dog last week. That is, until my dog got sick the day after.
I think I poisoned myself with some bad beef. Not pretty. Next morning, I read the directions on the package . . .
Eat within 5 days after opening.
I did the math, in the aftermath of my porcelain thrown-hugging purging. If my calculations were correct, I ate that beef on Day 21 instead of on Day 5. Sure, it was a little slimy but it smelled alright. So I ate it. And then, well, you can picture the rest of my day. And night. Or not.
Next day, with my still sore but empty stomach, I discover dog vomit. In multiple spots. HUGE spots. All over the living room carpet AND the loft carpet we just spent a hunk of change to professionally clean AND sanitize of all former dog excretions. Apparently, the dog thought the carpets were due for some fresh vomit.
What the heck did she eat out there in the wild blue yonder of our 44 acres, I wonder?
Incoming husband tells me she must have found that badly decomposed turkey smelling to high heaven he came across while cutting the trails with the tractor the day before.
Oh glory! More bad meat! Human and dog can’t seem to tell the difference between pure and putrid. Then again, the dog seems to prefer putrid.
So I haul all 70 pounds of the still-retching dog into the car and high-tail it to the on-call vet who’s about to charge me a hefty fee for opening the office that had JUST CLOSED an hour before, of course. While en route, I hope the other end of the dog doesn’t activate, if you know what I mean.
Just as I thought, the vet says she’s dehydrated and needs subcutaneous fluids. He hooks up a bag from on high and inserts the needle under one side of her spine and then the other until all the fluid is in the dog, leaving her looking like a camel—or actually more like a woman who just got size D silicone implants—on her back. I think of strapping a bra on her for fun when I get home and taking a picture. Then I realize my bras are just a few sizes too small, if you know what I mean.
Once home, the post-doc nursing of the dog begins:
Shove two huge pills down her throat twice daily which is isn’t easy.
Give a full syringe of something orange twice daily (to get the other end activated).
Give a probiotic tablet, with a paw print on top (because of course the dog won’t eat it without the paw print on top).
Supervise 24/7 to make sure she doesn’t blow from either end on the carpets.
Monitor and chart water intake.
Spend thirty minutes daily boiling, rinsing and cooling ground beef and find out she won’t eat even THAT.
Go back to the vet the next day and buy very expensive prescription food for out-of-whack canine GI systems which is nothing more than GROUND TURKEY, though not the putrid one she found on the trail. She likes the non-putrid, expensive, ground turkey in a can. Go figure. BTW, the other dog decides he won’t eat his food unless he gets some of her food too. Go figure again.
Two days later, after not drinking enough water and seeing her “saline boobs” magically disappear, I haul her back to the vet again for another subcutaneous “boob” job because she won’t drink enough water. The front desk laughs as she comes out of the examination room jiggling her new look. I don’t laugh when my credit card is charged a total of $600 for putrid turkey ingestion.
Well, after exactly one week, the medication routine does its business. The dog stops vomiting, absorbs her “second set” of saline, and finally produces the first sign of working the putrid through. On the lawn. Where it belongs.
Moral of the story?
Putrid things may look good. Putrid things may taste good. Putrid things may feel good. But putrid things are NOT good. They make you sick, sooner or later. They are costly. And they can take a while to work their way out of your system while you endure a whole lot of suffering. In the end, is anything putrid worth it? At least it taught me a lesson in mercy because sometimes, unfortunately, I act like a dog.
There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to death.
Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the evil man his thoughts. Let him turn to the LORD, and he will have mercy on him, and to our God, for he will freely pardon.
Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.