Poor poopy Popcorn

Today I was going to post the second part of my zombie dream from the other day, but I decided to post about something I care more about.  I'll get to that zombie dream tomorrow.

My dog, Popcorn, has been sick all day yesterday and all last night.  Poor little guy!  Apparently he got into my trash and ate a bunch of "fun-dip" that the wife had leftover and some various papers and tissues.  Now that I know what he got into, I'm not quite as worried as I was before but still....I'm fairly worried about my little guy.  Popcorn is a 9 year old bichon-frise my wife got around the time we started dating.  Since then, I've been taking care of him; helping her to train him and pay vet bills.  He has a tendency to get ear infections, so we're constantly fighting that battle.  Fortunately we found a great vet that Pop likes and actually listens to us!!  You'd be amazed how many vets just do the same thing they always do regardless of pet history or owner information.  I spent over $800 one winter on ear infections because of this!  The vet kept doing the same antibiotic ear wash with sedation over and over.  Each time, he'd assure me that it was the best thing to do and would work.  Each time, I'd take Pop home and the next day his poor ears would start oozing and bothering him again.  I'd go back and let the vet know that antibiotic washes had never worked in the past (as recorded in his chart) and that he usually needed an oral antibiotic as well as an ear drop to clear things up.  After the 5th time he said he wanted to do an ear wash, I told him he was an idiot and only out to take my money.  I may have accused him of not giving a shit about animals as long as he could milk their illnesses for their owners money.  I have no regrets.  He was an asshole and worse, he was arrogant to the point of prolonging my pets misery. 

So anyhow, Pop's been throwing up and having some really REALLY nasty diarrhea.  Despite my obvious manliness, I have a hard time with poop.  Some days I could swim in it and some days my own poop is about enough to make me puke....or just thinking about it.  My wife is a trooper though and has always been awesome about cleaning that up when I can't handle it.  I do all the ear cleaning and bathing and dog wrestling in return.  It's unfair, but easier for her to clean up his poop or whatever instead of cleaning up his and my puke! ......Honestly though? I'm a professional puker.  Been doing it a lot since I was a kid and I never miss the toilet.  I should start training or something.  "Supercleanpukes.com" will be my next website!!

After throwing up and crapping in the bedroom a couple times last night, the wife put Pop in the garage for the night.  I can't say it's cruel because it was my idea.  With some towels, water, and me checking on him as soon as I got home, he was just fine.  We did some laps around the house to work out whatever it was he ate and get things moving on down the line.  It worked.  I puked.  All good, right?  NO!  A couple hours after I went to sleep with Pop curled up on his daddy for comfort and lovins, he got up and crapped on the floor again.  The wife found it and cleaned it up.  Yay wife!

Back into the garage for Pop.  He seemed super happy to see me when I got up this afternoon and even brought me a present he found God only knows where in there.  It was a neatly wrapped 2oz block of baker's chocolate!  Fortunately for us, Popcorn really only enjoys a good treat if there are people around, so I think he'd been saving it all day until I got up to let him out.  I threw it out, of course and we went back outside.  When we were done, I finished getting dressed for work.  Popcorn decided that he knew where the rest of the chocolate was in the garage so he helped himself to another block.  Again, he brought it to me to show me what an awesome treat he found!  Again, I disappointed him by taking it away.  This time, I went to the garage to take it ALL away.  He looked at me with those sad sad puppy eyes but I'm a married guy.  Puppy eyes don't work on me anymore.  All married guys build up a tolerance level to puppy eyes.  Otherwise, our backbones shrivel up and dissolve when our wive's have at us!

I had to leave him in the garage again just in case.  Since then, all I can think about is my little man on that concrete floor.  We left towels and such for him to lay on, but I know Pop.  He won't pay them any attention at all.  Hopefully he'll be feeling better when I get home.  I don't sleep well without Popcorn to keep the zombies away while I'm sleeping.