She vexed me today. We came home to find the dog was doing a little interior rearrangement of her own. A vase of roses toppled, the water spilled on the floor and laid stagnant about and under the TV console. That must have surprised and made her nervous. As I scolded and cleaned, I could find traces of saliva dripped in various corners of the living room and corridor.
“Bad girl. Bad. Bad.” went my almost monotone voice. I don’t scream at her but the human still needed to let out some frustration. And since I was cleaning anyway, my frustration went ahead to wipe the white TV console more thoroughly than normal and of course the floor behind and under it. “Bad. Bad.”
I was at the doctor this morning and tired. So I left her alone after I cleaned up to get my own rest. Perhaps an hour later, I heard strange noises that I thought could be her woofing a little in her sleep. Came out of the room to find her in the toilet puking on the newspapers and pee pad.
The two thoughts – worry and “thank god this dog is smart enough to go do it in the toilet” – occurred simultaneously.
“Good. Good girl!” I petted her gently and clapped, half hoping to lighten the mood so she doesn’t feel so awful and half hoping the praise will cement in her brain that ALL future episodes of puking should happen here. “Good job. Good girl.”
That was before I saw the two more puddles of vomit on her bed and another before her bed. She probably did not have the time to head for the toilet so she threw up all her breakfast, and guess what, bits of dried flowers and rose leaf there. I had mistaken her food tasting and self-intoxication session for interior redesign. = =!!!
She was to vomit 8 times in total. The last time, she set on the pee pad and she struggled a bit, her muzzle pinched looking before she threw up mostly white phlegm-looking liquid. Then it was almost as if she was exhausted, she shook off my petting hand and walked away from me to settled down on her own on the floor.
Her bed, grossly soaked and packed with soggy kibble, canned food, barley and the incriminating dried floral arrangement, was packed and dumped in the garbage. So now my sick dog is one bed short. THIS is the reason my friends why a dog should have at least TWO cheap beds and not one ridiculously over-priced bed from the pet shop. I feel so affirmed. Haha! :P
It started to thunder and rain. So today, for the comfort and ease of my poor sick dog, the forbidden study is not forbidden. (I hold my breath that she does not puke again in the study!)
The scenario is pretty similar to the last time she tried to intoxicate herself with a hydrangea leaf, except that that was one quarter of an extremely toxic leaf. So now on top of instituting the forbidden balcony, Mr P will have to consider more carefully when he buys flowers for his wife in future.
But no, that is not why she is behind bars in this picture. Haha :P
LIFE… as it happened.
Theoretically, Donna should be a forbidden subject since mongrels are not HDB-approved by default. You could seek approval but it is subject to approval on a case-by-case basis. And in the case where the dog is not approved, you need to rehome the dog. – –
On the micro-level, our household operates with similar methodology. Donna knows what’s forbidden about the house – the sofa, the kitchen, the rooms – unless we explicitly lets her on or in them. Barricades, like the child gate we’ve installed, are so effective in communicating boundaries.
I like to think our household governance is more compassionate than…. bureaucracy. Most people would have that preference.
Humans are not so easily deterred by rules and regulations. Our eyes seek out the holes and the cracks that sneaks us a peek into what lies behind the barricade. Sure we read the sign-posted “No Entry” disclaimers. But even before the developer was ready to hand over the keys, some more enterprising future neighbours of ours had already sneaked into the development to take pictures and videos of the corridors and the unlocked units.
The Sign Says… doesn’t mean people and dogs will follow.
Interesting isn’t it, how things forbidden present the most desirable adventures to humans and dogs alike.
That’s the answer to why that dog was behind bars in the forbidden kitchen in the first picture. She sneaked in, but unlike our human neighbours, she couldn’t sneak out again. :P
Reference
– when to take a vomiting dog to a vet
– ASPCA dog care – vomiting
