I’m Worried About the Dog

I shouldn’t be, darn flea bag, but she’s been acting strange lately and I’m slightly worried about her health. She’s only five years old (her birthday, completely forgotten this year, is on the same day as Natalie), so she should have many years of barking, pooping and chewing up random things left in her. A couple of weeks ago, she was standing on the patio, looking right at me, and she peed, right then and there, without warning or preparation. Of course, I beat the tar out of her, but now I feel guilty that I scolded her because perhaps she couldn’t help it. Maybe something is wrong with her. This morning, Kara woke up to a puddle on the floor next to her side of the bed. She’s never done that before, and when Kara called her into the room, she slunk in, tail sagging, ears folded back, knowing that she was in trouble.

It isn’t like she was whining to get out. At the time, I thought maybe she had a seizure of some sort and lost come bladder control, but that thought didn’t solidify itself until this afternoon.

We put out Natalie’s frog pool to cool her off on this 110-degree day, and Elsa was acting normally all afternoon. Around 6:00 this evening, I was sitting at the kitchen table looking at her outside next to the pool and I saw her stumble. She was standing there, and it was as if her back legs suddenly gave out. She wobbled a little and her back sloped down as if she was about to lay down, but instead, she leaned over against the pool for a second or so until she snapped out of it. She looked like she was going to tip over, but then took a few steps forward and tried to lay down. After changing her mind, she came over to the sliding glass door and we let her in. She flopped down on the kitchen floor and laid there breathing heavily.

Perhaps she was overheating. Maybe it’s sunstroke or heat exhaustion. It isn’t like she does a whole lot during the day. Every time I saw her, she was laying on the grass with a typically not-so-bright look on her face, as usual.

So, should I be worried? Maybe not, but I see a CAT scan (ironically named) in her future, and I see big dollar signs for me as Kara’s eyes welled up at the mere thought of Elsa kicking the bucket.

And although I told Elsa that I was going to start digging the hole for her in the backyard, I’m sure I’d miss the old hairball, as much as I pretend that I wouldn’t.

She’s passed out in the entry hall, but that’s nothing new. I’m sure she’s fine. Probably.