Frank on a better day
This Monday has kicked my ass and it’s only 3pm. After our normal morning family routine…Brian and I wake up…we wake Frank up…we let Frank out to pee…drink coffee while we cuddle and play with Frank in the living room…talk about our days…Brian gets ready for work…Frank and I move to the office…Frank chews his bone…I do emails…Brian leaves for the office. All went according to plan. Brian left for work and Frank and I hung in the office until Frank stole some papers out of the trash can. That boy loves paper and leaves. LOVES. When I finally noticed what he had done he had eaten half an envelope. Sigh. It’s been done before. I started to clean up the paper scraps that littered our living room rug when Frank started vomiting. I immediately assumed he must be choking on paper and tried to look down his throat to see if I could get anything else out. I saw nothing. He threw up again. I pet him and told him it was going to be alright. My heart was racing. What was wrong with him? He started to hack as if he was choking and his breathing became shallow. I picked him up…and he felt warm and heavy. He couldn’t even hold his head up. Something was seriously wrong and I started to cry. I threw on shoes and ran out of the house en route for the hospital. By the time we got in the car he was limp. I called Brian screaming and crying and telling him he had to come home…that I thought Frank was dying. I seriously thought he was going to die on my lap on the way to the vet. That was the longest five minutes of my life. I parked in back and ran in with Frankie in my arms. I’m not even sure if I was making sense. They must have thought I was crazy when I walked in, in tears and dressed in pajamas and no bra. Through my tears I explained that I thought he had choked and wasn’t breathing. They whisked Frank in back to be checked by the doctor while I sat in the waiting room crying. Pleading with God that Frank would be ok. The doctor came out and led me to an examine room and said Frank was stable but was suffering from anaphylactic shock. Did I know of anything strange he had eaten? Did he eat any medicine? Was he exposed to a bee or spider? I kept bringing up the paper he eaten but he assured me this had nothing to do with paper. He led me into the back room to see him. Frank was laying in a little oxygen chamber with an IV. He looked so sad. He explained that he had given Frank a shot of adrenaline to combat the reaction and now he wanted to monitor him to see his response. He told me in the nicest of ways that I should go home and wait for his call. It was so hard to leave him. Frank isn’t just a dog he’s our family and I couldn’t love him more. I can’t stand the thought of loosing him. When Brian got home we searched the house to find the culprit. Brian finally found it…a bee…dead next to one of his piles of throw-up. So there you have it, Frank is not only allergic to bees…he goes into anaphylactic shock when stung by one. SIGH. I’m never going to want him to let him to leave the house again. So many bees outside! After a very stressful morning Frank is going to be ok. I got him to the vet in time and he reacted well to the adrenaline (THANK GOD) and he can even come home in the next hour (CAN”T WAIT). The whole experience has left me completely drained though…and scared of bees.