Our dog, Walter, is obsessed with food. He will eat anything remotely edible, so we have to keep all food products up high and out of climbing range and the pantry doors shut tight. I should have known that I couldn't leave a bag of sugar in the bag on the kitchen floor, but I wasn't ready to pour it into the glass jar where I keep the sugar because I wanted to use the rest of that sugar first. Alas.
I was away for a couple of hours and came home to a ripped open bag of sugar, a paste of drool and sugar surrounding the bag and oceans of sugary vomit. He drank an entire bowl of water and threw up every where. The kitchen, the side entrance hallway, the entry hall, all over the rugs upstairs. I gave him more water, which he promptly drank and projectile vomited all over the bed. Not even after the great couscous-raisin binge of 2008 did Walter throw up that much. He sat there whimpering and looking absolutely pathetic. I had visions of a doggie diabetic coma and other horrors dancing in my head. Of course, one does not go into a diabetic coma from too high blood sugar -- that happens when blood sugar is too low. (Things you learn when you have a diabetic cat.) But I wasn't thinking clearly -- I just saw my poor little sweetie suffering and I freaked out and took him to the doggie emergency room.
It was a total over-reaction. He refused to go inside once he realized where we were and I had to carry him in. Walter does this brilliant impression of a dying dog, so the hospital staff rushed to us. I had to explain he was OK, just acting extra pathetic to try to get me to take him home. When I sat him down he did his awkward dog dance to prove he was fine. I almost said "oh never mind, he is OK," but I figured we had come all this way and all the puking in the car had me concerned.
Walter had blood work done to check his electrolytes, he got a shot to settle his stomach and some medicine to keep his stomach settled. This guy has a cast iron stomach, so I don't think he really even needs the medicine. This is the dog who ate an entire bag of dog food in one sitting. Six bowls of cat food in one day. Half a bag of flour. An entire apple, core and all. I can't even remember all the stuff he has managed to scarf down and not even bat an eye.
They told us to watch for "anorexia" and that he might be off his food for a couple of days. Um, no. The second we got home he went around the house trying to lick vomit crumbs out of the carpet that I hadn't had time to get cleaned up in the frenzy of mopping vomit and looking for an after-hours vet clinic.
The good thing about living in Pittsburgh is the trip cost $200. Not cheap, but ever so much better than the $1,000 that it would have cost us in D.C. The best part was I knew that Walter was totally fine.
Note to self: Any food items, even those in cans, go up high from now on.
