Pantyhose Are Not Food.

I know you were sitting there thinking, “But Hillary, I wanted to eat some nylons THIS VERY DAY.” To that I say it is a bad idea and trust me – I know a thing or two about nylon-eating being a bad idea. Or, more accurately, the Grand Marm does. Adventures in Dogging!

The Culprit

So about a week ago, Dee started throwing up randomly. Just little piles of bile in the morning or maybe once in the afternoon. It wasn’t anything major. Hillary immediately jumped to, “The dog is nine and I just changed the flavor of her food – it isn’t working for her.” I did what any sensible dog parent would do and gave the dog rice with some pumpkin in it to clean out her pipes. It sorta worked; she puked less, but it was clear the dog was feeling very, very poorly. She waddled slowly and was groany, she panted a lot without really doing anything to exert herself. She also didn’t want to poop. Like, no poops. This is a dog who shits like a mongoose, so we knew something was wrong (note: I do not actually know how much a mongoose shits, but I’m assuming it’s a lot because I’ve heard this comparison before in relation to mega poops.)

Anyway! Things sort of got REAL bad on Tuesday, which was something of a bummer because I’d gotten some great news on Monday (more on that at a later date.) It killed my mojo, yo. More importantly, it was clearly killing the dog. I was actually afraid she wouldn’t last the night, so I called our trusty vet and informed them that I had a sick Mama Dee and we needed to come in. They got me in that night. The vet was incredibly thorough in his examination, feeling her stomach and taking her temperature. It was clear Dee was broken, but he couldn’t tell why or how. She had no temperature and her gums were bright pink, so there was no sign of infection. He suspected a blockage, but she’d show symptoms she simply didn’t have if she was blocked, so he couldn’t make the diagnosis.

Not knowing how to proceed with these mystery symptoms (and being kind because we’d already managed about 700 dollars worth of vet bills the previous three weeks with Lulu’s ruptured gland and Griff’s arthritic hips), he gave us painkillers and said if she got worse, get her to an emergency vet, but try to float her until Thursday morning when we could get her x-rayed. Dave and I both stayed home with her Wednesday preparing for the worst. It was a rough day, the dog wasn’t doing great, but somehow she made it through to Thursday morning. I thank the miracles of drugging her up to high heaven.

Then the puke came!

Thursday morning the dog let out a mighty, explosive yack and out comes . . . yards of what looked like intestines. No, seriously, I thought the dog had just heaved her guts onto the floor and was dying in front of us. But then we really looked at this foul creature spewed from her mid-section and realized something wasn’t right. It wasn’t meaty enough. Lo and behold, NYLONS! Dee had eaten an entire pair of fat-lady nylons when we were at work the previous week and her body finally got sick of them and expelled them. They didn’t pass into her poop passage because they were just too big. And for that? We’re super lucky. If those nylon hose had gotten around her guts, she’d be dead.

Needless to say, she felt fifty times better after she’d been de-pantyhosed. She’s still doing better. She’s playing with her toys and eating and pooping and doing all sorts of things old dogs do. She excels in the departments of sleeping, howling, and farting respectively. During the x-ray of her midsection, Dr. Tom did spot another odd round thing in her stomach that needs to be looked at (either a growth or another foreign body), so she’ll be at a specialist getting an ultrasound later this week. For now, though, the current danger has passed.

Long Live The Deetles!

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