Joe asked me today how much a person can handle before they just collapse under the weight of everything. My response? I don’t want to know. I’ll add, though, that were it not for my lovely psych meds, I’d probably have collapsed already.
The last two nights, Scout’s been doing a lot of vomiting during the night. Otherwise he’s seemed fine–low appetite, but we chalked it up to stress. I mean, first we lose Molly, then we adopt Emmylou, then we have the house fire, he spends a night at my Dad’s, a night at the kennel, then the hotel, and now the apartment. That’d stress out any dog!
So I made a vet appointment for him this morning, and Joe took him in. The vet said the blood work indicates that his kidneys are failing. They’re keeping him there and pumping fluids in via IV, and we’re in wait and see mode.
In the meantime, here’s an open letter to the universe:
I have had enough. Please quit sending bad things our way. It’s time for some happy.
Yours very truly,