Disclaimer: Do not read this story if you are eating or have a weak stomach. I will try to be as tactful as possible, but it’s just gross no matter how you say it.
Standing under the harsh glare of the florescent lights, I stroked my puppy’s head and blinked a couple times in disbelief at the words I was hearing. “It’s not really thaaat uncommon for dogs to poop blood.”
$170 later and an evening at the emergency pet clinic, and that’s what I learned.
Todd and I walked into my apartment after work last night, arms full of the cheese, sausage, bread, and wine we had just picked up at the grocery store. It had been a long day, and all we wanted was to eat some simple, delicious food and relax. Yeah, right. The minute the door opened, we could smell it. Oh no. Did Lexie not hold it all day? That’s the understatement of the year. Upon opening the bathroom door (where Lexie chillax’s all day while I’m at work), we were knocked over by the stench and realized something was very wrong. Not only was there a huge, really not ok mess (use your imagination), but there was blood. A lot of it.
We clicked into emergency mode (actually kind of cool to see us come together like we did, but that’s another post), Todd taking the pup outside while I called the emergency pet hotline. They recommended I bring her in, since it could be something serious. No duh…my puppy is pooing blood. This is obviously not ok.
We rush her to the clinic and sit anxiously in the waiting room. Lexie is more hyper than I have ever seen her, like berserk-a-dog. When we finally get back to see the vet, she has calmed down and seems completely fine. Which as it turns out…she was completely fine.
“It’s not really thaaat uncommon for dogs to poop blood.”
Yeah, well, tell that to a worried puppy-mommy. No idea why it was happening, but minus vomiting and lethargy, it wasn’t concerning the vet much at all. He recommended some treatments, but said she seemed to be doing ok. Still concerned over the potential diseases it might-maybe-possibly could perhaps have been a sign of, I walked out of there with antibiotics, a precautionary blood test, and subcutaneous fluids for my dehydrated little lady. The cost was like a slap in the face, but seriously, what else could I have done? It would have been the worst thing in the world to find out that something worse was going on and I didn’t do anything to figure it out.
Crisis averted, thank God, but there was still the mess on Lex’s badunkadunk and the horror scene in my bathroom to take care of. After grabbing a mop from Todd’s place, we made a game plan.
Phase 1: Wipe as much mess off the floor with paper towels. I wiped, Todd held the trashbag open. Old clothes and nose protection are required for this phase.
During Phase 1, Lexie sat in her crate, looking as remorseful as a puppy can look.
Phase 2: Mop the floor once initial mess has been wiped up. Nose protection is no longer needed.
I try to be a cheerful poopy-cleaner-upper. Yeah, that’s some hotness right there.
Phase 3: Bath the little lady. Usually a bath just involves Lexie in the tub and me kneeling beside the tub, but this mess called for a full-on shower. Clad in a super cool one-piece bathing suit I dug out of my drawer, I joined Lex in the shower, scrubbing her from head to poopy tail. She came out smelling like roses (or dog shampoo), and apparently the whole deal just wore her out. After running about like a crazy woman, which is typical after a bath, she flopped onto the couch in exhaustion. Poor puppy, and poor puppy parents! It was a night I would soon like to forget, but I’d do it all over again to make sure my little girl is ok.
Phase 4: EAT!