This morning, say 3:30 am I awoke to my Wilson (the sock footed puppy) creating quite a clatter. Moaning, whimpering, and lots of scuffling about. I awoke to it much like I used to awake to my children in their infancy crying out in the middle of the night. Jumping out of bed, heart racing I reached for my dog in the dark, instantly he calmed to my touch. Thinking he might need to go to the bathroom, because someone with a name that rhymes with fleremy forgot to let him out before going to bed, I walked downstairs and opened the door expecting him to fly outside...No Wilson just dropped to the floor contorting his body on the ground and moaning. Alarm went through me this is not typical Wilson behavior. Cuddling, eating, and voiding are what Wilson live for, if he is not responding to one of them then the world is not in order. I flicked on the light and screamed (according to Jeremy) out the loudest "O my DEAR LORD" the heavens have ever heard. Because there sat my darling sock footed puppy with a swollen face and panting furiously. Of course the first thing to do is to go running upstairs, turn on all the lights in my bedroom (including bathroom and closet), and wake Jeremy. You might be thinking "O Jeremy must be a vet or well schooled in blimp faced puppies." No, this is just my natural response to most adrenaline causing situations in my life. I don't even want to know the file the pentagon has on me from the many calls I made to Jeremy there.
So since Jeremy is used to this he just lays in bed with the pillow over his face secretly asking God what he did to deserve the likes of me.....
"JEREMY GET UP WILSON IS GOING TO DIE, I JUST KNOW IT!"
Jeremy looks over, he is concerned but believes my sock footed puppy will live.
I go downstairs with Wilson and do my best to make him comfortable. I lay next to him on the floor and pet him for what seems hours. It was there I realized why I was reacting the way I was. Wilson is more than my dog, he's one of my best friends. I don't know how I would've survived without his constant presence during the hardest move of my life. This sweet, chocolate eyed, dog knows me better than some dear people in my life. In the middle of the night I can put my hand down and it is always met with a comforting kiss my furry friend. How could I have let this happen to my puppy? Am I not his keeper?
Wilson is all right. After two shots in the bahooky, he no longer looks like he is "packing chaw" in his lips.
I think I may have gotten 4 to 5 hours of sleep last night and writing two papers today in a lack of sleep fog was no fun. But I would stay up with Wilson again in a heartbeat.
He would do it for me.
He's Wilson my sock footed dog......
