Olive, our beloved Great Dane, went into heat recently.
Let me cut you off before your "But why haven't you spayed her like a responsible dog owner?" questioning begins.
Answer: German vets don't like to spay Great Danes. And if you find one who will perform such a surgery on such a large dog, they don't like to do before they've reached 1 year of age.
Olive is 10 months. We were so close...yet so far.
ANYWAYS. I won't get into the details. Let me just say, it's National Geographic all up in here. Emphasis on "graphic". Z is probably traumatized for life. We have both learned a lot more about dog anatomy and biology than we ever wanted. I've googled things I never thought I would need to know. And Olive is cranky and miserable because we've quarantined her, for obvious reasons. I fear we're doing irreversible psychological damage to this dog based on the way she's responding.
Then this happened, adding to her trauma and eventual need for pet psychological therapy.
I needed to wash Olive's blankets and bed today. The ones she spends the majority of her days laying on. At this point, they need to be washed often. Again, for obvious reasons. And I like to wash them twice, just, you know...because. This double-washing takes about 2 hours, start to finish.
So I think, well, I'll give Olive this big ol' bone to munch on while she's banished to the backyard for these 2 hours. She LOVES bones and we usually closely supervise her bone consumption...meaning we'll let her gnaw on it for about 20 to 30 minutes, then take it away. This makes bones last like...2 months. Well, I was having guilty dog-mom feelings about how sad and miserable Olive's been while quarantined for the past week, so I thought "Shoot, I'll just let her have the bone for as long as she wants". Woops. Worst mom ever.
I kept an eye on her and she loved that bone for the better part of an hour. Then she got bored and wandered off to do other dog things and stare sadly at me through the door, whining occasionally and making me feel terrible.
Finally her bed and blankets are done. So fresh and so clean. I make the executive decision to only put her towels back in her designated area; the bed was getting too much of a pain to clean. This turned out to be a great decision because...
Olive lay down, forlorn and sad, and started to whine and moan and groan in the way she's been doing for the past week. It's her special way of letting me and Z know how unhappy she is and how unfair her world feels. We didn't think much about it. UNTIL...
Olive starts heaving. And then proceeds to vomit the entire contents of her very large stomach onto the very clean towels. Z and I helplessly watched this horror unfold in a matter of seconds. I may have said something along the lines of "OH NO OH NO OH NO!!!" We quickly ushered Olive outside and provided her with a large bowl of water. Poor, poor Olive. It was quite clear that this was my fault. She had overindulged on the bone.
The good news? We were home when this happened. We did not have to come home to a mess. Clean up? So easy. Just one towel got the worst of it. Do you have any idea how thankful I am that it was not on our white rugs?! Or on any of our rugs, period? WHEW. Things could have been so much worse.
But can we just take a second to bless Olive's heart? Poor puppy is having a rough week.
So yeah. That was our first dog puke experience, amazingly enough. It was pretty horrifying, but could have been way worse. And for the first time, I finally understand why people get little dogs...little messes.