The Perils of a Pet Mom

I’m SOOOO glad I didn’t have to spend the evening at the emergency vet clinic last night. We thought Tucker, my (practically miniature) chocolate Labrador, was sick for quite a while yesterday evening after we got back fromĀ  dinner. My daughter came to us and told us he was in her room, shaking, and I thought, “Oh no, he’s having a seizure.” And he just turned 7! We got him out (under his own power) but he was acting really strange, so we questioned her: did you give him anything? Was there any food in your room? She denied it. We thought Tucker was sick, so we made him go outside, where he began acting normally–playing, wanting me to chase him, etc. But when I tried to get him to come in, he flat out refused!

Tucker
Tucker

This went on for maybe 1/2 an hour, and he came inside a few times, only to insist on going back out. We thought he had the runs or something. I gave him fresh water, petted him, and he’d act fine outside, but go nuts inside.

Then I made him come in because I was tired of this, then went and did something else for a minute in another part of my house. When I came back, my husband said that Tucker wouldn’t go into the living room.

Well guess what was in the living room? A stupid karaoke machine which a co-worker was having Nate look at for an issue with it. My husband had turned it up so loud earlier in the evening that it had been rattling the glass in my china cabinet. No wonder Tucker was upset! I made hubby remove it to his truck to take back to work this morning, and after that, Tucker settled down and was fine!

At least I didn’t have to go to the emergency vet clinic.

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A Plea From the Dog

Me and Mom

My name is Tucker. I am a 3–almost 4–year old Chocolate Labrador Retriever. I live with my mom, Liberty, and TMOTH. I have commandeered Mom’s computer to beg for your help (and I am really good at begging.)

You have to stop Mom’s obsession with this thing called “writing”. It is really getting in the way of my quality dog time. When I first came to Mom’s house, everything was confusing, and I did not know how completely obsessed she is with this activity.

First, it was writing a book. That was fine. She would sometimes stay up late while writing this book. This was nice because she would, if she remembered, be up to let me out to go chase opossums and other night-time animals I don’t get to see in the daytime. I sure do love to chase them squirrels and rabbits… just wish I could catch one…

But, Mom has now decided this thing called a book needs to go into a contest. If that weren’t enough, she is now writing these things called “reviews” and “short stories”. I’m not really sure what these are, just that they are starting to encroach on my well-deserved walks. After all, I am the dog. I need these sorts of things. And, if Mom were to take me for my walks, she might not be so concerned about the size of jeans she is (or isn’t) fitting into these days.

If that isn’t enough for you to help me, maybe this will be. I sometimes hear Mom talking to herself. I think she’s talking to me–after all, she using the word “bones” a lot–but when I come to see where the bones are, she barely notices I am there! I know I heard her right. Then she’s started talking a lot about getting an “agent” and making lots of “queries”. I’m not sure what these are, either, but they sound like a big problem if I’m going to get my dinner on time one of these days. Too many times, Mom can’t remember whether she fed me or not. (That’s why the kids give me scraps–to make sure I keep up my strength. Someone has to get the word out about Mom!)

Won’t you help me? You may know how to talk to Mom about her addiction. I’ve tried, but apparently, Mom cannot understand me. I will keep you posted on my progress.

–Tucker the Labrador