Even Vomiting Has A Positive Side

Hi. I'm Oliver. And a few days ago, I felt like ass. Something was seriously wrong with my tummy and just like the dog in that picture, I hurled and I hurled and I hurled. I didn't use the toilet like the dog in that picture, but I threw up like the dog in that picture.

I don't know what happened, but one minute I was all comfy, chillin' out on the couch and relaxing next to my mom. The next, I was tossing my cookies all over the place. That's right. I barfed big time, and most of it landed on my mom. It all just hit me so fast I didn't even know what happened. I felt a twinge, stood up, and before I could even make those gross puke-warning burp sounds, the barf came flying out and landed on my mom.

She was nice about it, though. She just said, "Ollie!" And then went to clean herself and the rest of the barf that landed on the couch. Little did she know, she would be doing a lot of cleaning in the hours to come.

I threw up two more times. On the couch that is. She had to wash two couch covers and my dog pillow before the living room puking was done. She still didn't get mad, though. I could tell she felt bad for me. She's nice that way. I love how she has such a big heart that she didn't even yell at me for puking on her or the couch. If my mom would've puked on me or Bruce (my fox toy) or Neville (my octopus toy) I would've been pissed. But she didn't--puke or get mad at me. Instead my mom rubbed my tummy, gave me little sips of water and told me that everything would be okay.

I knew it would be. But she didn't. She was really worried. Especially when I followed her into the bathroom and threw up again. I could tell my persistent ralphing was taking it's toll so I tried to make my mom feel better by wagging my tail at her. It was kind of a half-ass wag, though, since I didn't have a lot of energy. But it did make her smile.

After thinking about it, I guess my mom was right about not eating things in the yard. She told me to "Ollie, you put that down. Don't eat that." But I didn't listen. She always over reacts about stuff I put in my mouth. This time, however, I should've dropped whatever it was I had in my mouth (and not hidden in the bushes to finnish it off).

A few more throw-ups on my mom's bed (which she did get a little snippy about because she had to wash all her sheets) and the barfing was done. But it was late, 1:30 am, and we were both exhausted. I did get some dry heaves around 3 am, but at least my mom didn't have to do anymore laundry.

The next morning, my grammy came over to make sure I was okay while my mom went to work. She was really nice and rubbed my belly too. She even gave me some of my favorite treats: dried chicken strip treats. Best of all, she didn't go anywhere or leave the house all day long. I hate it when people leave the house so having my grammy over all day long was really nice.

That night I slept really well, and the next day I felt even better. I was almost back to my old hyper, chase-anything-that-moves self, but my mom still made me go to the vet doctor place for a check-up. I needed to get a booster shot anyway, but I ended up staying there for 5 long, scary hours while they did all kinds of tests. That totally sucked because not only did I have to get a big butt exam, they cut my toenails too. And I hate getting my toenails cut. That's one of the worst things ever.

On the bright side of all this, I did get to postpone my doggie obedience classes. You can't go to doggie obedience classes when you're sick or if you've been sick recently. And since the vet doctor said we should probably wait, my mom decided to push things to August. My mom and the vet doctor can overreact all they want when it comes to postponing my doggie obedience classes until August.

On another bright side, it's nice to know that I can do something really awful, like throw up on my mom, and she still loves me. Not many people still love you when you do something like that. But my mom does. And that's pretty cool. If only I understood why throwing up is okay when chewing on shoes or getting into the garbage isn't. The throwing up stuff is super more disgusting, but my mom has her boundaries. Just like I (and my toenails) have mine.

The end.

Ollie