Every time I think we've turned the corner with Dash, something happens to remind me that he's still a sick dog. He must have had another vestibular episode last night. When I took him outside to pee around 1 AM, he was drooling a lot and wanted to eat grass. I thought he was going to throw up, but he didn't. We went back to sleep, but he had no appetite the next morning. It was really hard to get him to take his morning meds. He wasn't interested in anything. Eventually we were able to wrap the pills in small pieces of a leftover quesadilla. He still seemed eager to walk, but when we got home he wanted to throw up again. It was way too soon to throw up because his phenobarbital hadn't gotten into his system yet. I wouldn't let him eat grass in the yard, gave him a Pepsid AC, and went back in the bedroom with him until he eventually fell asleep on the bed. This was a little risky, since I didn't want to clean vomit off the bedspread. The plan worked though. When Dash woke up three hours later, he seemed fine.
When we went out to dinner yesterday I put on a shirt that Janet said was fifteen years out of style. It probably was. I have trouble throwing stuff away, so I told her she could go through my closet and get rid of anything she'd be embarrassed to see me wear in public. Janet loves to get rid of clutter, so I wasn't surprised that she took me up on my offer. This afternoon, there were three large trash bags filled with an odd selection of old polo shirts that looked like they belonged to a guy thirty pounds heavier than me. Jeez. Did I ever wear those shirts? I guess I must have. There were also a ton of old t-shirts I must have picked up at trade shows. Janet seemed delighted to pare down my collection of ugly sweaters. I must have been fond of loud, colorful sweaters at some point. I could never throw away this stuff myself, but I won't miss anything. Truthfully, I'm glad the stuff is gone.
When I went to the bank this morning, I stood in line behind a man who'd brought a shopping cart into the lobby with him. He looked like a homeless guy, but he must have had a business of some sort. I watched as the teller handed him bag after bag of coins. When he had filled the grocery cart with coins, he left the bank and started pushing the cart down the sidewalk. I have no idea where he was going. It's a strange world we live in. You never would have seen this at a bank twenty years ago.
I made an appointment to get a haircut tomorrow, but I forgot to check the weather forecast first. It looks like there are supposed to be thunderstorms. I hope the forecast changes overnight. Weather forecasts change every few hours here in Texas, so it might be clear tomorrow. If there are storms, I'll have to cancel my appointment. Dash's storm phobia has gotten worse and I can't risk leaving him alone in a storm anymore.
Dash ate his dinner tonight, so hopefully he is feeling better. We still don't know what triggers these vestibular episodes. They seem to occur when you least expect them and they are always alarming. The vet says he will experience these periodic sensations of vertigo and nausea for the rest of his life. Luckily, they don't seem to happen too often. Lets hope he has a normal day tomorrow.
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