Poor little doggie woggie

Douggie the doggie did his first ever public performance of heelwork to music yesterday at an animal sanctuary fun day.

He was brilliant. Along with the other dogs in the team he twisted, twirled, weaved, bowed and wowed the crowd. I was so proud of him.

The event itself was well organised and well attended.  Lots of dogs brought their owners along for a day out. That of course meant that Douggie was ridiculously over excited at all the new friends he could make. I think he fell just a little bit in love with another white golden retriever, a cute little girl three months younger than him called Heidi. She was a stunner.

Len and Lashes brought their baby bichon along. She entered him into the most handsome dog competition but he didn’t win. He was robbed! He was by far the most handsome dog.

Munki tried her hand at archery, bouncy castling -ing, sliding, climbing and every other kind of ‘ing’ on offer, of which there was plenty. It was a really nice day out for us all.

Until…….

Douggie threw up. Yuk.

There I was scooping it up into poo bags. No more detail needed, I feel.

Suffice to say that the visit/scooping/ disinfecting  action was repeated many times over the next twenty four hours.  What I don’t understand is that why, in a house full of tiles does the dog feel the need to throw up all over the only bits of carpet we have down? More than once I was holding his ears back and holding a towel under him to try and save my carpet.  To very little avail I might add. The poor pooch couldn’t even keep sips of water down. he was one poorly doggie.

At 3.30 a.m. he came upstairs, clearly feeling wretched and needing some help.  Boofuls and I thought he was about to have another  seizure so we sat with him for an hour until we were fairly sure he wasn’t.  At 5.00 a.m. I was walking round our field with him after he woke me up to take him out for, well, you know.  Again, no details needed. The poor dog was like a wrung out cloth, listless tired and wobbly. He was so ill I even let him sleep in the bedroom. What a night, he wasn’t the only one like a wrung out cloth by the time it ended.

An early morning  phone call and subsequent visit to the vet saw us £92 lighter and Douggie much more relaxed. He’s an expensive hobby, this dog. It’s a good job he’s worth it. You’ll be glad to know he’s back to his normal, bouncy, irritating self now.

Got to go – a pair of large, limpid brown eyes are looking at me and imploring me to go for a walk.

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