I have had pets my entire life. We always had lots of cats and always a dog, but never more than one at a time. When Tom and I met, I had a dog and two cats. He was not a pet person! He told me the first time that we met that he was allergic to cats. The constant disbeliever that I am, I decided to challenge him to this statement that he was allergic and grabbed the cat and rubbed him across his face while he was sitting on the sofa. I was convinced that enough exposure to a cat would get rid of the allergy and if he was not willing to have pets, then this was not the guy for me. Quite a bold move on a first date!
So for 8 years Tom has been living in a home with pets, both a cat and a dog. He is still allergic, my theory did not hold true, but he does not have any problems as long as he does not touch the cat.
A few months ago we decided to get a new dog. Our other dog had passed away a year before and the kids were really missing having a dog. (The cat too since the cat was getting all of the kids attention, which was a little bit too much... no, Gizyo can't go on the swing with you, in the car with you, in the bath with you, he does not want to play dress up and you can't strap him in to the stroller!) Trevor would often cry at night for a dog. He would go to bed crying that he was the only one in the house that did not have a Buddy. The girls had each other in their room, mommy and daddy had each other for Buddies, but he had no one. He wanted a dog for his Buddy.
We went to the shelter to get our dog. We spent a few weeks going to different shelters and talking to the kids about adoption of animals. The day we went to get our dog we knew immediately that Chase would be our dog. He was a 6 month old Boxer who was scared of life. We needed a dog that had energy for our busy family and was strong enough to handle the attention of our three kids. He was incredibly undernourished and very unhealthy. For the first two weeks he did not get off of his bed. He slept and had diarrhea and would not eat. Eventually, he started gaining weight and became more active. We needed to begin to train him and house train him. We decided that we would crate train him during the day since we need a place to have him safe while we were not home. After all he was still a puppy.
One night Chase got up in the middle of the night. Tom went downstairs to let him out. When he got downstairs I heard him yell at the dog. I went down the steps and he said, "Please turn a light on, I think I stepped in dog pee." So I turned the light on and at the same time noticed the worst smell ever. We looked around and saw diarrhea all over the first floor of our house. It was not pee, but poop! It was everywhere. We both started cleaning it up (thankfully we have all hardwood floors on the first floor) and then the kids started one by one coming down the steps. They sat on the steps at 2:30 in the morning, gagging at the smell and sight in front of them. At this point I began to wonder why we thought we could handle another living creature in our home. This illness went on for days and the dog lost more weight and the finally, the end came. The dog was sitting in the front passenger seat of my car and I had just picked Aliza up from school. We were not yet out of the driveway to the school and I heard the dog starting to gag. As I am driving, the dog starts vomiting. I have never in my life seen so much vomit. He has not eaten in two days, I think, what on earth is going on. He throws up in my lap, on the floor, in the seat, all over the front of the car and the kids are speechless. I pull over and get out of the car. I am so glad that I still have a child wearing diapers and carry baby wipes wherever I go. I begin to clean out my car. I look at the vomit and realize that it is one big, giant ball of thread. I start pulling it apart and recognize the print of the fabric... it is from the comforter that is in the dogs crate. I eventually get the car clean and head home. Once home, I go to the crate and realize that what was once a Queen sized comforter, is now shreds of fabric barely larger than a bath towel. The dog had eaten an entire comforter. This explains the past two days of diarrhea and lack of appetite and I pray that it has all come out because I can not afford any more medical bills.
A few weeks pass and all is well with Chase. He seems to be recovering and is even putting weight back on. One night, Tom lets him out before bed. He looks outside at the dog and sees the dog having a hard time going to the bathroom. The dog sees Tom and decides to bolt into the house as if something is chasing him. Tom stops him at the door and realizes that he has something hanging out of his butt. Tom sends the dog back into the yard and tells him he has got to work this one out on his own. (I can hear the conversation from upstairs and wonder who could he be talking to?) I get up and look out the window. I see Chase squatting, and Tom telling him, "come on buddy, you can do it, push it out...) Chase is struggling between squatting and running around in circles, chasing what ever it is that is following him and attached to his butt. Eventually, Tom determines that the dog is not going to be able to do this on his own and needs some assistance. My husband, the one who does not like pets (that's what he says to be tough anyway) dons a trash bag over his hand and decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs for the mysterious object hanging from the dogs bottom. He gives a tug,.. nothing happens. He tugs again, the object gets longer, and longer and longer. The dog is looking at Tom, completely grateful for his assistance and obviously feeling much more comfortable. After pulling approximately three feet of something out of the butt of our dog, Tom and the dog call it a night and come inside both with their heads hanging low. One completely disgusted and the other forever grateful for his human companion. We are so happy to have Chase with us. He is healthy (as long as we keep him away from comforters) and provides companionship for Trevor (although Trevor won't allow him to sleep in his bed) and cuddles with Aliza. He thinks the cat is his toy and adds more stress to the cat's life, but at the end of the day, he is a good dog and we all love him. And I love my husband for stepping outside of his comfort zone and allowing our family to have pets.
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