There is nothing worse than cleaning up dog vomit. Well, nothing except being bitten by a shark or getting struck by lightning, I guess. Or running in to your grandma in the contraceptive aisle at Walgreens. But I have never experienced any of those things personally*, so for me there is nothing worse than cleaning up dog vomit.
Bam is our sweet angel dog. I have on more than one occasion referred to Bam as the “cuddle whore.” Roxy is the real troublemaker in the house, getting in to the trash can while Bam watches from the corner, hoping she won’t get blamed.
That’s why it was so shocking when Bam projectile vomited all over the basement while we enjoyed family movie night two weeks ago. Somehow her 16-ounce stomach was able to produce 7 gallons of a smelly, gelatinous foreign substance.
At first we considered bringing in a priest to perform an exorcism. After we finished cleaning it up, we figured it was just a fluke.
But after a while, we started noticing she was puking up blood. Now it was really scary.
I took her to the vet the next morning. As I anxiously paced the waiting room, I imagined all sorts of scary things. Was it an infection? Cancer? Or worst of all – could my dog have an eating disorder?
The vet took a look at her and deduced that she had eaten something bad and that the blood was just a result of breaking some blood vessels in her stomach during the puking itself. He prescribed some pills and some very expensive canned dog food.
Although relieved, I was also kind of pissed that I just shelled out a hundred bucks for nothing.
She loved the dog food. At $87 a can, she’d better like it. She scarfed it down like an Ethiopian kid given a plate of filet mingon and then looked at me expectantly, wanting more.
After a few days of eating the canine equivalent of Beluga caviar and not barfing, she started to feel better. Life was good. Then, in a moment of weakness, my husband decided to let the dogs sleep in bed with him. The cuddle whore got so excited she puked in the middle of the night. The sheets and comforter went straight into the trash.
The next night she did it again, this time in her kennel.
Back to the vet. As we waited, I wondered if she might be faking it just so she could get some more of that expensive food.
This time, the vet concluded that she must have had a bacteria in her gut from a bone we had given her a couple weeks ago. He prescribed some stronger meds this time.
Another hundred bucks later, we were driving home, Bam giving me a disappointed look the entire ride.
Two weeks, six piles of vomit, two hundred bucks and a set of sheets later, Bam has finally stopped puking. I, on the other hand, get a little queasy when I look at the damage to my bank account.
*I lied. I was actually bitten by a shark once.**