my furry kid

Po, po, puppeh dawg. Our Ollie Bear is sick. We didn’t know that the “kennel cough” shot was necessary twice a year. He will be fine after we load him up with the horse-sized meds and steroids the vet gave us, but we feel sick knowing we could have prevented it.

Ollie is a high-energy doggle, indicated early on by his wild puppyhood. Truly, you couldn’t pet him unless he was asleep. He’s also an enthusiastic eater/drinker, and an occasional gag or cough is typical. In the past few days, this has increased tenfold and he's been a bit lethargic. We didn’t put those clues together with the coughy-dog warning signs posted at the doggie daycare where he goes at least once a week. I took him twice this week, which means he had two days to share cooties with his dog buddies. More sick doggles on my mind. I called the daycare to confess and they graciously didn’t make me feel worse about it. But I still felt soooo guilty.

I laughed with a friend one time about my guilt complex, telling her I would have made a great Catholic girl since I can carry guilt like an ant…if it’s 50 times my body weight, lay it on me, Sister Mary Maria. I have now contaminated dog nation. Po, po, puppeh dawgs.

Of course, the natural progression of my thoughts led me to the panicky feeling I expect to have when my child gets sick. Oh, the heartache of it already! I vowed to not sweat the small stuff this year, which should include not worrying about my unborn child’s future ailments. Hmmmf. Much easier said than done….a lifetime of new worries is upon me.

Ollie was once sick when he was a puppy, and it was terrifying. He had the wrong things coming out of the wrong places. Again, my ability to carry the guilt of it all was astounding. What did I feed him? What did he chew up that I missed? What is in the backyard? Worry, worry, worry. Who knows what actually made him sick?! Ollie couldn’t tell me the problem and just stared back with the most pitiful puppeh eyes I have ever seen. I called in the details to the vet, who more or less said she'd charge a small fortune to tell me to wait it out. Stellar. So I watched his every move like a psychotic hawk, circling and circling and occasionally running into things. Luckily, he was back to his crazy self within a week and I could begin to breath easier, though never quite the same. I would have to be more attentive since I can’t speak doggle and he can’t speak English.

When he drives me crazy or scares the bejeezus out of me, I tell my husband he's his dog. But he’s still my puppeh dawg. We’ve had him since he was 8 weeks old and he’s been our trainer-kid…giving us — especially me — revelation after revelation of our strengths and weaknesses as caregivers. Reminding me that in spite of his shenanigans, this too shall pass and he's more than worth it. For now, I’m going to give him some extra lovins and hope he gets back to his doggone self soon. And maybe trust that I’m paying attention and honing the skills necessary to care for another when words are not an option. Ease off on the guilt and concentrate on making the right now better.

Rest up, Ollie Bear. Your dog buddies will be happy to see you again soon.