The Vomit Thread
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One of the most disgusting things I have ever seen happened about 7 years ago. Lilly somehow managed to scale a dresser and eat an entire bag of lemon drops. The bag was huge and I had only eaten a few. She puked all day long. The big problem was that no one saw her eat the candy. By time we realized that she was hurling all over the living room and not napping in her crate, the dark green carpet was permenantly stained in a few places. We had to rearrange furniture to cover it up.
It's not a dog puking story, but it does involve Shiva, lol! I posted it quite a while back down in the Stories forum 
Last week I picked up some kind of stomach bug. Me, in bed, after 9:00 a.m. was enough to worry Shiva. She kept pacing in and out of the bedroom, making little quizzical noises down in her chest, laying her big chin on the side of the mattress, snuffling at me and pawing the blankets, whuffing softly in distress with that worried expression that's peculiar to the breed. Bimmer was curled up in his customary position at the foot of the bed, craning his neck around to check on me and sing to me occasionally. I laid there as still as I possibly could in a hopeless effort to avoid the inevitable. When the inevitable became, well, inevitable, Shiva had taken a break and was getting a drink of water, getting that snout all nice and cold and wet.
Poor Shiva! She didn't know WHAT to do when she heard me in the bathroom. While I was cringing over the commode, (trust me, it'll be QUITE a while before I want any fish again) she crashed through the door and stood behind me making her strange little worried Chewbacca croon down deep in her throat. When she just couldn't stand it anymore, I felt her stick her head up under the back of my robe and then poke me in the cheek (NOT the on the face) with that perfectly chilled snoot. It was impossible for me to make any reply to her or reassure her at just that moment, so she just kept prodding me, getting a little more worried and insistent at each nudge.
After it was all over, I'd have hurt my sides laughing, except that they were already sore, and truthfully, I was terrified that if I laughed I might start the whole process over again. There she stood, tail slowly wagging back and forth, hitting the bathroom door facings, setting a perfect andante tempo, that big butt samba-ing in counterpoint, one big tear squeezing out of the corner of each eye.
Last week I picked up some kind of stomach bug. Me, in bed, after 9:00 a.m. was enough to worry Shiva. She kept pacing in and out of the bedroom, making little quizzical noises down in her chest, laying her big chin on the side of the mattress, snuffling at me and pawing the blankets, whuffing softly in distress with that worried expression that's peculiar to the breed. Bimmer was curled up in his customary position at the foot of the bed, craning his neck around to check on me and sing to me occasionally. I laid there as still as I possibly could in a hopeless effort to avoid the inevitable. When the inevitable became, well, inevitable, Shiva had taken a break and was getting a drink of water, getting that snout all nice and cold and wet.
Poor Shiva! She didn't know WHAT to do when she heard me in the bathroom. While I was cringing over the commode, (trust me, it'll be QUITE a while before I want any fish again) she crashed through the door and stood behind me making her strange little worried Chewbacca croon down deep in her throat. When she just couldn't stand it anymore, I felt her stick her head up under the back of my robe and then poke me in the cheek (NOT the on the face) with that perfectly chilled snoot. It was impossible for me to make any reply to her or reassure her at just that moment, so she just kept prodding me, getting a little more worried and insistent at each nudge.
After it was all over, I'd have hurt my sides laughing, except that they were already sore, and truthfully, I was terrified that if I laughed I might start the whole process over again. There she stood, tail slowly wagging back and forth, hitting the bathroom door facings, setting a perfect andante tempo, that big butt samba-ing in counterpoint, one big tear squeezing out of the corner of each eye.
Honestly, I'd rather clean up puke than crap. Dog puke really doesn't smell that much. Luckily, we haven't had a crap incident in the house for a long long time, but when we go for walks, if one of them craps, I clean it up.
Gunnar will puke up his raw food once in a while. I'm not sure what triggers it- excitement, something real rich, I don't know. The other day we were in the basement, I was working on a computer down there, and I heard him barf. At least it was on the concrete. His entire dinner. I just let him re eat it, no need to let a half a chicken and a pound of beef heart go to waste!
Gunnar will puke up his raw food once in a while. I'm not sure what triggers it- excitement, something real rich, I don't know. The other day we were in the basement, I was working on a computer down there, and I heard him barf. At least it was on the concrete. His entire dinner. I just let him re eat it, no need to let a half a chicken and a pound of beef heart go to waste!
Aren't dogs wonderful the way they clean up their own puke AND the cats' puke too? First time I saw this, I wretched. Later, I realized that it saves work for me. lol. I totally agree that cleaning pet puke is way better than poop, on a kind of sliding scale. On the other hand, human puke is totally disgusting.
Yeah, we've been lucky that way. A belly full of heart or venison is pretty nasty though, but at least it doesn't smell like dead stuff. When Midnite was sick right before she died, she had some pretty bad smelling barf, it smelled like people barf.
My wife had her shoulder operated on just after Christmas. When we got home she was nauseous from the anesthetic and pain killers, and barfed all over the bathroom. I was the lucky one to clean it up. Not much fun, that's for sure! That is the true meaning of love, when you'll clean up their barf.
My wife had her shoulder operated on just after Christmas. When we got home she was nauseous from the anesthetic and pain killers, and barfed all over the bathroom. I was the lucky one to clean it up. Not much fun, that's for sure! That is the true meaning of love, when you'll clean up their barf.