Tuesday, June 3, 2008

GORDY UPDATE: bouncing back



I have decided to break the silence with a tale surrounding our usual fare of medical unrest and eventual triumph. But in order to tell this story we must rewind and introduce you to very special person. Somone very dear to our (and Gordy's) hearts. And that person is BOB.

BOB is our dogwalker. We love BOB. In fact, Gordy loves BOB so much that sometimes I question whether or not he even gives a crap whether we return home in the evening or not. In fact, there have been many a night when we will burst through the door expecting his usual exhuberance only to be met with a listless figure on a dog bed, peeking up at us with one eye with a look that reads digust. Or rather, a look that reads, " BOB?? Oh nevermind. Life sucks".

But we still love BOB and cherish the day he (dog)walked into our lives.

Once upon a time I went away for the weekend only to return and find that my Gordy could care less. And I thought to myself, "Is this it? Has BOB finally won his heart for good?". And I was crushed. Paranoia and vanity eventually gave way to concern when, the following morning, we awoke to the sweet sounds of Gordy vomiting on the bedroom floor. And when he went outside for a morning pee? Pudding for breakfast, if you know what I mean.
That night, circa 2am or so, we woke up to Gordy whining and crying at the foot of the bed. In a stupor, we wisely decided to take him out and it was more of the same fare. And at 3am, 5am, 8am: more of the same. And on the kitchen floor, the bathroom floor, and then two more times on the kitchen floor... more of the same. We waited it out a little bit because the gastronmical system of the french bulldog is nothing if not fickle. But alas, the river kept a-flowin'. Strangely, he was peppy to the maximum all the while and his appetite remained strong. I can tell you that our biggest worry (outside of his immediate well being) would be that YET AGAIN we would have to change his food because his little body had once again mysteriously decided to reject his current offerings. But then a lightbulb went off... a little memory of a tidbit that good ol' BOB had shared via text:

Almost one week before, Gordy ate a SuperBall.

That's right, a SuperBall. And why not? It's not that different than the gum, the earplug, the paper, the rocks and god knows what else he's snuck in over the course of his short life...

Apparently one sunny afternoon BOB was walking Gordy and was suddenly distracted by a woman yelling at him (a very familiar concept). Meanwhile, Gordy found himself a little treat. BOB claims he wrestled what he could out of those powerful jaws but if I know my Gordy, once he sets his mind to something there's little to be done.

When we took him into the vet I was slightly nervous about the judgment that might be passed out, but in the way that Gordy has managed to seduce all beings with unwavering cuteness, the vet just laughed and told us it was better than panties (true story). Gordy received a rehydratingl IV, some pills, and some herbs as his penance. And still walked out with his head high. The good news is that in the midst of the free for all on our floors, we did happen to see chunks of what we now know to be the infamous SuperBall which means no X-rays are in order. Which also means my bank account weeps with joy.

You will be happy to note, thanks to the miracles of modern science and eastern wisdoms, Gordy is 100% on the mend.

The end.