Message Received

This morning as I’m walking Brady to the park I get to thinking, “Tomorrow is three years since he broke his leg.  I can’t believe we’ve made it through a broken leg and a swallowed needle.”

There were times when I just wasn’t sure.  I didn’t know it was possible for dogs to play for twenty four hours straight.  To wake up in the middle of the night, to get you up at 6am.  Hubs and I would stock up on chews to keep him busy, take him on three long walks a day, give him things to stimulate the mind, take him to training classes…we did it all.  And here we are, the parents of a dog that now only needs two walks a day.  Except when the dog walker comes.  Then he gets three walks a day.  Okay, we’re surviving, THAT’S THE POINT.

As we get to the park and walk around Brady lunges at something on the ground.  He was too quick for me to see what it was, so I pry open his mouth and insert my fingers to take it out.  It’s too late.  Swallowed.

And then stuck.  He immediately starts crying for help and I of course begin to freak out.  How do you do doggy Heimlich?  Why don’t they teach you this when you adopt a dog?  WHY DON’T THEY TEACH YOU THIS IN TRAINING CLASS?  I paid you how much to teach my dog to roll over but you can’t teach me how to keep him alive?

New idea: I’m starting doggy CPR classes.

Without having a clue what to do I try to remain calm (that’s going to be step one in my CPR class) and pet him as he manages to swallow whatever it was that he had picked up. 

Here I am gloating to myself about how awesome I am to have kept this guy alive and the universe throws me a curve ball.  LISTEN UNIVERSE, I GOT YOUR MESSAGE.

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