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So last night Truffle barfed and barfed and barfed, mostly clear water with some red specks like tomato bits in it. Today she's been miserable and lethargic and won't eat though she has drunk several gallons of water and some water with salt and sugar added to it for electrolytes. With our own medical staff on hand (and the nice fellow being stubborn) we're applying home remedies at least until business hours tomorrow.
She doesn't eat canned food ever, so it's not the rat poison stuff.
Theories include: she dug something rotten out of the compost heap: she found something deliberately poisoned at Lighthouse Field (it's been known to happen): she picked up a virus or bacterium from the toilet (she likes that water, I don't understand it). Or she was at Its Beach, and while there's an R in March, it's not unknown for there to be diseased sea birds and stuff. Or the pizza? She might have grabbed off a largeish piece of pizza and eaten it. She did that with a half-pound and more of salami on at least two occasions.
In any case this is not normal recreational dog puking.
On another front, apparently after selling Emma and Jason tickets to and from Grass Valley for the weekend, Amtrack called the schedule off, and they're stuck up there for an extra day. Now, just think about that, dears. Stuck in Grass Valley -- probably not as bad as Lodi, but only because they've got friends up there.
It's not how you convince people to use public transportation, guys.
And in a much more trivial aside: I hate minced garlic. It gets all chemical-bitter when it's minced. Guess who has to figure out what to do with a liter and somewhat of minced garlic the nice fellow brought home from work along with two and a half kilos of celery sticks (which is much easier to use up since it isn't preminced and flavor-ruined)? I'm tryuing to caramelize it now, to see if I can repair it. And then I'm making soup with it. And the celery and the chicken breasts he brought home an airborne flotilla of.
She doesn't eat canned food ever, so it's not the rat poison stuff.
Theories include: she dug something rotten out of the compost heap: she found something deliberately poisoned at Lighthouse Field (it's been known to happen): she picked up a virus or bacterium from the toilet (she likes that water, I don't understand it). Or she was at Its Beach, and while there's an R in March, it's not unknown for there to be diseased sea birds and stuff. Or the pizza? She might have grabbed off a largeish piece of pizza and eaten it. She did that with a half-pound and more of salami on at least two occasions.
In any case this is not normal recreational dog puking.
On another front, apparently after selling Emma and Jason tickets to and from Grass Valley for the weekend, Amtrack called the schedule off, and they're stuck up there for an extra day. Now, just think about that, dears. Stuck in Grass Valley -- probably not as bad as Lodi, but only because they've got friends up there.
It's not how you convince people to use public transportation, guys.
And in a much more trivial aside: I hate minced garlic. It gets all chemical-bitter when it's minced. Guess who has to figure out what to do with a liter and somewhat of minced garlic the nice fellow brought home from work along with two and a half kilos of celery sticks (which is much easier to use up since it isn't preminced and flavor-ruined)? I'm tryuing to caramelize it now, to see if I can repair it. And then I'm making soup with it. And the celery and the chicken breasts he brought home an airborne flotilla of.
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