I’ve got a poorly pup on my hands. Mort had an upset tummy earlier in the week when he was staying with my family, but this isn’t particularly rare for Mort – he has always had a sensitive belly and we have found out the hard way that he can’t eat certain things.
We thought he was better, until we came home to find a cross between a crime scene and a dirty protest. Poor Mort had been badly sick, and other unpleasant things had happened at the opposite end of his body too.
God bless Vanish.
It wasn’t his fault, and only someone with a heart of stone could be cross at him. But I can’t help but wishing that he wouldn’t conduct these mishaps quite so close to the living room door. It’s proximity to the front door means that the minute you come home, you are hit with the unholy stench as soon as your nostrils venture over the mat. But, more importantly, because it means that when you open the door (while feverishly crossing yourself. You know, judging by the odour, that it isn’t going to be good, but you pray that at least the sofa has been spared) whatever bodily deposits await you are spread like butter on toast across the carpet.
And, Mort – just in case you read this blog while we are at work – we are always ecstatic to see you when we get home too. But, when you’ve had an accident, maybe you could refrain from running around the living room, straight through your earlier misdemeanours? Just a thought.
Once we had finished scrubbing the carpet (while Mort sat watching us, wagging his tail enthusiastically, with an incredulous look, clearly finding what we were doing hilarious), we gave Mort lots of cuddles and tried our best to calm him down. I’m not a vet, but I’m guessing excitement and rapid movements aren’t the best medicine for sensitive bellies.
He’s now asleep in front of the fire, feeling a bit sorry for himself. There is nothing worse in this world than the face of a dog who feels poorly. He’s had some natural yoghurt, which hopefully will settle his stomach, and we’ve put the fire on for him, which seems to have cheered him up. He must be feeling off though, because Dan just did a lap of downstairs, whooping and jumping, after England scored in the football, and Mort didn’t even bark.
Fingers crossed it is just an upset tummy or, at worse, a bug. Think healthy thoughts, everyone.