The Fun Just Never Ends

I woke up this morning to a really horrid stench.  I knew what it was, but I couldn't figure out where it was.  As I got ready, I looked everywhere for the source.  It wasn't until I went to the back to walk my dogs that I found it.  Chewie's normally snow-white self was covered in nastiness.  He'd had attacks of diarrhea in the night, and he, his cage, and even the wall behind his crate had paid the price.

What started as a part of my daily routine, that last quick walk with the dogs in the morning, turned into a rushed festival of unpleasantness.  I took Chewie out, watched him struggle with the sickness, brought him back inside and led him to the bathroom.  When I closed the door, he started getting nervous.  Somehow I manhandled him into the tub and bathed him.  This is such a calm description for such a frantic episode.  He stood drooping and miserable while I washed him.  He tried to get out, I grappled with him, he slipped and fell.  Meanwhile, the time I needed to leave for school crept ever closer.

I dragged the pan at the bottom of his crate out to wash it with the hose, and Mom arrived, coming to the rescue.  She sent me to school, and finished things up.  She checked in on Chewie to make sure he wasn't dehydrating himself through being ill.

I worried about him all day.  By the time I got home, Mom had been forced to wash him twice using the hose outside.  I took him for one last walk, and no sooner had I stepped out the door than he pulled the retractable leash out my hands and took off.  I ran to the house and got my flashlight, and then I found myself walking down this deep woods path in the uneasy quiet of a Mississippi night.  I heard all kinds of things rustling, but none of them were Chewie.

I came back to the house and was about to go to the cut-over across the road when I saw his white form glowing in front of me.  I jumped out of the car and gently called him until he finally came to me, leash dangling.  He put his head on my knees and just leaned.

I need tomorrow to be less adventure.  I'm not sure I can stand otherwise.