Our little dog, the Pretty-Pretty-Princess of the household scared us to death yesterday. I was folding laundry and she was hanging out with me, wanting to be near. She'd had a pretty gross bout of the poops a couple of days before, but seemed to be recovering. Well, yesterday she leaned over the edge of her Pretty-Pretty-Pet-Pouf and threw up bile. Not terribly unusual for a dog that has difficulty with limits. In the summer she will run and run until she pulls something, then come inside, gorge on water and throw up. Or she'll eat a bunch of fresh grass, or snow, or leaves, or who knows what, and throw up. Or she'll bolt her food, choke on the chunks of kibble, and then throw up. She's worse than a frat boy on a Saturday night as far as the puking goes.
Anyhow, I went downstairs to ask the hubby to clean it up, especially since I had to clean up after her earlier in the week. She'd been fine all day, ate and drank with gusto, and spent the afternoon snuggled in her Pretty-Pretty-Pet-Pouf after she finagled it to cover the floor vent in the bedroom. This dog loves her luxury. But by the time he made it upstairs, she had thrown up again, but this time it was blood. A lot of it.
Needless to say I had her packed up in the car and was on the way to the vet within five minutes.
They examined her, found blood in her stool as well, and immediately had her stay overnight for observation and the works, putting her on fluids and strong antibiotics while they waited for the blood work to confirm their suspicions. They think she has canine hemorrhagic gastroenteritis, which is treatable as long as you catch it early enough and treat it. She got to come home this evening, after being hooked up to ivs all night and through the day. She's on some heavy doses of antibiotics, but all looks well. Needless to say she is very relieved to be home. She walked in the door, immediately checked her food dishes for a treat she thought she well-deserved, checked in on all her toys, and flumped down in the living room. Oh, and swears she'll never throw up in the house again if this is how it ends: at the stinkin' vet.