(soon to be retired)
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Too much of a good thing?
First:
Remembering the souls lost in Nine-Eleven and their families and loved ones on this, the 11th day of September, 2012, eleven years later.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Today's Entry:
The dog gods are going to get me now.
I hope I'm not, but I may be, in trouble here today. Concerning the dogs.
You see it all began the other day, when Emma didn't eat her breakfast.
No, it all began with the fact that Paul always feeds the dogs their breakfasts. He gets up at 4-bloody-15-o'clock in the morning and by 5 a.m. the dogs have had their kibble, Paul has had his giant bowl of homemade granola, etc., and he is off into the world for his day of lobstering. Sometimes he even leaves here earlier if he has to drive down to Gloucester for bait first.
So, the other day Em didn't eat breakfast. Sometimes that happens, however, I came down (at my usual late hour of around 8 or 8:30) and saw the bowl of kibble, all mushy having soaked up the little water we put in with it, and there was no note anywhere. Usually, if something odd happens in the early a.m., Paul will scribble me a note on paper or on the message board on the fridge. But no note was found. So I assumed it was Emmalee's breakfast because she is more likely to not eat it than Kip-the-wolfer-down-of-food.
I added a little cottage cheese to the mushy kibble and mixed it all up and in a few minutes I gave it to her and she nibbled at it til it was almost gone. I gave the remainder to Kip.
OK. I started thinking about how I cannot eat any solid food til way into the morning, usually not til after 11 or so (just my one cup of coffee is all I have early), and I thought well, maybe Emma doesn't like to eat a whole meal that early, as well. So I asked Paul if he would let ME feed them in the mornings (I am also the feeder-of-nighttime-dinners), and he thought about it and finally agreed.
Yesterday was the first day of this new regime. I was hoping, when I came down in the morning, that Paul hadn't fed them, not remembering our deal. So I fed them and they ate perfectly normally. When Paul came home, I asked him if he'd fed them and he said "No, you said you were going to do it." Fine.
So yesterday came, and went. Oh, BTW, Andy Murray, formally of Great Britain but really of Scotland, won the U.S. Open Tennis Championship yesterday. I am not a Murray fan but between the two men playing, he was my favorite of them. So Yay!
This morning I was lying in bed as I usually do now that I'm retired, just enjoying various thoughts, when it dawned on me that my poor little puppies might be hungry. It was after 8 o'clock and they were used to eating at around 5, so I got up quickly (for me), dressed, did a few things on the computer upstairs, and came down and happily prepared them their bowls of delights - kibble, a spoonful of cottage cheese, and a big spoonful of the special rice with turmeric that I make for them. Yum. They both dug into their respective dishes and in a flash, they were members of the clean-plate-club.
You remember that club, don't you?
Personally, I was never a member. I hated to eat as a child and my brother and I would sit for hours at the table after the parents were long gone, staring at our plates of cold yucky food until we finally got sick of that and just stuffed it down our throats and swallowed real hard.
Anyway, today after feeding the dogs, I was getting my cup of coffee prepared, cleaning up a little in the kitchen when I glanced over to the side of the fridge where, on the message board in big black letters was "I FED THE DOGS."
Whaaaaaat?
Panic. I am in full panic mode now. I rush over to the dogs and they are just licking up all the juice with not a morsel of food left in either dish.
Shite.
Two breakfasts. All I can think of is "torsion of the intestines," or "bloat" when a dog eats too much and it all expands inside the belly. That is not good. It's never happened to us with any of our dogs. I don't know what I should do. There is no way I can manage to get them down to the vet, who never has a quick opening in the schedule anyway, even if I wanted to. Paul is out on the ocean with no phone.
OK. Calm down. I mean, it's been 3 hours, after all, in between meals. Maybe the first meal was good and digested by the time they ate the second meal? This is what I'm going with. They also are both quite sprite and active this morning, neither one seems weighed down or too full.
There. I've admitted my crime, and now, when that man of mine comes home, oh he will get a good talking to. In the future he needs to physically wake me up and TELL ME if he has fed the dogs, not rely on my seeing a note written on a board when I am still groggy with sleep myself!
Ee-gads. Now I will worry all day long. They are both over on the sofa now, having just bark-bark-barked at someone going by in the street. Wish me luck here today with them and pray for a swift digestion in both bellies!
(I think I may ask Paul to go back to doing the breakfast prep from now on, too. Maybe I was too hasty in making such a big change...)
This photo was not taken today. They were just napping by the front door the other day when I caught them like this, keeping a watchful eye on the world going by.
Cheers and gulps,
Bex
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