When I inherited my dog I was given a leash, a bowl, some food, and two very important facts: 1) he's furry and 2) DON'T feed him people food! The first was an obvious warning. The second an ominous threat...like Mogwai...don't get them wet and NEVER EVER feed them after midnight.
They weren't yanking my collar! Well, the first was fixed with a bath. Once his pesky fleas were evicted the hair stayed on the pooch and off the floor. What did not, was dinner, despite the heeded admonishment.
Eddy generously regifted his dinner on a somewhat regular basis. Not being a dog person I couldn't say with conviction that this was abnormal. After all, cats do it a lot. The difference is a cat produces dribble and a pup some pail sized puke. I CAN say with uber conviction I am NOT a fan.
January proved to be a whole new year. He ate, he ran, he played, of course he slept. Almost like a real dog! And then the puking returned with vengeance. This time he wasn't holding anything down but water. I stopped feeding him. An unfed dog is practically maintenance free. But maybe not a solution.
I did what any inherited dog owner would do....I deferred to my experienced girlfriend. I made her make the decisions. So here we had a dog wasting away, unable to keep food down, possibly fighting a cancer...REALLY, this all sounds disturbingly familiar. He doesn't have cervical cancer does HE?
His x-ray was…get this…apparently if you can see a dog's insides from the outside x-rays don't really work. In other words, he was too skinny to see much! Go figure. To make a very long story end, we sent him to find mom. And if there is some other world, Lucky Edd was running alongside a pedalin’ Eve before days end.
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