This weekend was suppose to be a beautiful affair. Poster show. Dinner with friends. Gorgeous weather. A short trip home to Rochester to visit my family, aunt and cousin and the usual suspects at Gold Rush. But as John Lennon said, "life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."
On Friday, I rushed home from work, pedaling as fast as I could without breaking too much of a sweat. If I could walk the dogs in record time, I might have been able to make it to Northeast by six with a quick trip to the grocery store. So I leashed the pups and we did our usual dance down the stairs—all ten of our legs trying not to miss a step. I couldn't see anything was wrong until we were three houses down.
Etta laid down in the grass. I smiled, assuming she was being her usual petulant self, and kneeled down to pet her exposed belly. But it wasn't soft and warm. It bulged and trembled. The pet medical dictionary definition of "bloat" flashed before my eyes.
Xrays, blood tests and urinalysis could not pin down why six-pound Etta's stomach had expanded. Why her pulse was weak. Why she was in so much pain. Pain killers got us through Friday night, but we had to return to the vet Saturday in the morning because she was dehydrated. Her appetite is still off and on, but she's back to barking at the neighbors, cuddling and begging for treats.
After the vet closed on Friday, Etta and I traveled the half a mile to Hang It to greet the coworkers and friends who promised to see the opening of Bark at Art. We weren't the prettiest couple there. I did not have the chance to change out of my biking clothes and she was heavily sedated. But we received a great amount of compliments on the behalf of the poster Jared A. May and I designed. We saw many people carrying around our yellow paper. My ears burned as I overheard people say the "yellow wiener dog poster" was their favorite.
Word is we sold very well, but you can still get a copy of the poster at Hang It until September 10th. Jared and I plan on taking photos this week so expect a new poster in my work section soon.
After the second trip to the vet, Etta, Arlie and I did manage to get to Rochester. And I couldn't forget my Polaroid Super Shooter (circa 1971) to document:
Sure beats Instagram, right?