Opposites

As I sit at our still-extended-from-Christmas-Day dining table and enjoy my last little slice of heaven, also known as white bread toasted with my Aunt's homemade strawberry preserves, my mother calls me from the local Military base shopping center and tells me that Thurston is sick. Oh lord. Now, my mother, God love her, is one of the biggest non-homo drama queens I know. I have learned to pick and choose which of her dramatic monologues of certain situations that invariably will crop up in her life are actually important, and which ones are just dramatic monologues for the sake of having a dramatic monologue.

The poor little guy didn't eat yesterday, wouldn't drink, didn't bark at all, and wouldn't go outside to do his thing. Sunday morning, he threw up on their bed... a bunch of black dirt, as she described it, and constantly "licks the air." Hmm. She says he may have eaten too much dirt and has gotten a splinter in his throat. He kept my mom and stepdad awake from 1:30am to 4:00am this morning, which if it were me, I would have just medicated him and put little Thurmador in the dang closet! (Nothing interferes with the sleep of Dr. and Mrs. Harrell, mind you, which is the precise reason why we are perfect to have canine children, instead of real children.. we'd be put in jail for putting them out on the patio to sleep. haha.)

Well, needless to say, the decision was just made for me to make the 50 minute drive to my mother's house to pick up Thurston and bring him home. If I know him, (and I do !) he just wants to come home. They keep their home very cold in the winter.. and we do too, by comparison, but he is also chilled for some reason and keeps shaking all the time. But I think he's putting on a show to come home. Wouldn't that just beat everything if he gets home and he's fine?? *Chuckle.*

Maybe he is sick. Maybe he has pneumonia! But... he hasn't been coughing... just licking. Why would someone lick the air? I know!!... I need to call Julie and ask her, since my doctor-nurse hubby seems to be of little help. His suggestion is to look in Thurston's little throat and see if there's anything in there. How can we do that without him gnawing off my hand? And what the crap difference would it make if there WERE something in there? Heimlich?

Well... looks like I'm going to Covington today!

Will post what the outcome is in the following edition...