Our household has been lacking sleep lately due to a certain 15-year old cockapoo .... yea, Gracie! Up and down and in and out of the house all day and all night long. Diarrhea and vomiting. Cleaning floors at 3AM. Torn between feeling sorry for my girl Gracie and feeling sorry for myself. At this stage of her life, I begin to think the worst. Still. No tears.
An emergency vet visit left my girl afraid, shaking and vomiting, waiting for almost an hour on the cold hospital floor for the vet to come back. I watched her from the stool I sat on from above, cold, uncomfortable, emotionless and bitter to the fact that she was so sick. My poor girl. But I stayed strong, cause there were still no tears.
But I knew of the possibilities and I trembled inside to think that this might be it for my Gracie. And so I prayed.
Get down on the floor with her.
And so I did.
I kept praying. Between being cold, sick and anxious, she was shaking badly.
Cover her with your coat.
And so I did. And I kissed her head and massaged her ears.
In that moment, as I let go of my strong matter-of-fact realistic, bitter demeanor and allowed myself to feel the hurt, tears began streaming down my face.
"It's okay, girl. Mommy's here..."
I felt better. I'd released days of worry and exhaustion and confusion and now I was okay. And so was Gracie. Her blood test and x-ray showed nothing serious. Probably a gastrointestinal flare-up from stress of the holidays.