Griffin is sick again. He started vomiting on Sunday (always Sundays, never a day when my vet is open for phone calls) but seemed to get better throughout the day. Monday I called the vet first thing in the morning and left a message asking for more antibiotics, and then spent the day waiting as Griffin got worse and worse. By the time the vet called me back at 7pm, I had kicked into puppy crisis mode, using a plastic syringe to force tiny bits of pedia-lyte into his mouth to prevent dehydration, begging him to stay strong. This morning, I woke up at 6 am to him vomiting all over my bed (becoming a more common occurrence than I would like) and I knew we were verging on a trip to the emergency vet.
Did I mention that also upon waking up, besides vomit, there was rain pouring in my window and thunder clapping outside? All I could think was, "this is going to be an interesting day." 80 kids, 20 staff, pouring rain, Program Director S was gone at a job interview, Assistant Program Director A has been having some issues with patience (in that she snaps everyone's head off) so I managed to re-arrange the schedule, encourage everyone, be upbeat, keep A from yelling at anyone and then rush off to the pharmacy in between severe downpours.
I spent the entire day expecting the rain to stop (we never have rain last the WHOLE day), revising the schedule every few hours, creating fun indoor programming for crabby staff and bummed out kids, all while running back to my house every hour to a dog that was not moving except to shiver, not opening his eyes, and who sounded like he was breathing through a sponge. Also, because it was pouring, Olivia hadn't had a ball all day and was screeching, throwing her body against the ground and going on and on as if she were being held hostage.
I knew Griffin was really sick when he refused to eat the tiny bit of cheese I'd wrapped his pill in. He hadn't kept any food down for two days but cheese is his favorite thing. He also refused lunchmeat, so I decided just to take advantage of his weakness, open up his jaw, put the pill in his mouth and put a little liquid in so he would swallow.
By 6pm, he still hadn't moved or eaten, but when I attempted to give him some hamburger and rice, he ate tiny bits out of my hand. So I spent nearly 30 minutes feeding him a pinch at a time. It was still raining and I was physically, emotionally and mentally drained. At dinner, I announced that we would swap the campfire and the dance party, so as I sat feeding my helpless little dog, I tried to mentally pump myself up to go dance with a bunch of wound up children, when all I really wanted to do was cuddle my dog and possibly burst into tears.
The dance was fine but by the end I felt nearly drugged I was so out of it. However, when I returned to the cabin, Griffin was up and walking around and he was starving. He ate two big bowls of burger and rice, drank some water, took his second dose of medication and I breathed a sigh of relief that we'd all made it through a very long, wet, stressful day.
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