What A Wednesday

 It all started Tuesday night.  

I got home from work as per my usual, gave Jesse his can of dog food, as per my usual.  He didn't eat it, not as per his usual.  He usually scarfs down his canned food like it's going out of style.  I thought that was odd, but didn't worry too much about it.  

About an hour later, he puked in the living room floor.  That was definitely unusual, but I still didn't worry too much.  I cleaned it up, and we went on about our business.  

Sometime later, I headed down the hall to take a shower, and found another pile of dog puke in the hall -- with my foot.  This time, I started to worry, but still not too much.  Dogs eat nasty things and get upset stomachs.  I cleaned it up and took my shower.  

A few minutes later, Jesse came into the kitchen where I was.  His head was down and his tail was between his legs -- typical guilty dog behavior.  I tried to comfort him, but every time I petted him, he flinched.  I told him he wasn't in trouble.  He couldn't help getting sick.  It wasn't his fault.  Eventually he calmed down, and I went to bed.

As soon as I crawled into the bed...

"These sheets feel wet.  Why do these sheets feel wet?   Jesse!" 

Sure enough, he'd puked right in the middle of the bed.  He'd already puked up what little food was left in his stomach, so this was mostly water.  It soaked all the way through to the mattress pad.  Thank goodness I had an allergy bag over my mattress, or it would have gotten soaked, too. 

So, instead of snuggling down for a long summer's nap, I was changing sheets in the middle of my night.  Not just the sheets, but the blankets and comforters, too.  I got the blanket off of Cody's bed, and the extra comforter out of the closet and was able to sleep warmly enough. I put a load into the washer and went to bed, hoping that would be the end of it. 

This morning, I got up and things seemed a bit better.  Jesse hadn't puked at all during the night, so I thought he was over it, and that was that.  

It wasn't. 

When I got home, Jesse had puked 4 more times --I'd shut him out of the bedroom before I left for work so at least none of them were on the bed this time--and off to the vet we went.   Where Jesse puked on the exam room floor. 

The doctor checked him out really well, but couldn't find anything wrong with Jesse.  His temperature was normal, he didn't seem to have a stomach ache, his lungs and heart sounded good.  They did some bloodwork, which also came back normal.  The vet said I'd probably been right.  He'd eaten something that didn't agree with him.  I asked if it were possible that Jesse had caught something from my cat.  She'd been sick last week, but she'd bounced back by the next day.   He said it was possible, but highly unlikely.  It was much more likely he'd just eaten or drank something nasty and it had upset his stomach.  

The vet gave Jesse some pretty stout anti-nausea medicine -- but he's still not interested in eating.  I even tried to bribe him with eggs and milk, but no dice.  I'm trying not to worry, but it's hard given that Jesse is 13 years old.  At least he's drinking water, and I'm hoping the meds kick in soon.

In better news, I finished a sock.

And I joined the last ball of yarn to this scarf.

As for my other WIPs, nothing has changed since last week.  

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go worry about my dog.