The Great Cotton Blockage Of 2012

Well it would seem that continuing entries into the expanding archives of the Pit Bull Diaries have slowed down a bit.

For those of you not in the know, a mid to large size pit bull barged her way into our life two years ago this month. Since then, that dog has orchestrated a whole new facet of my life adorned with Uverse remotes, challenging flatulence, chewed up hats, training aids, and partially consumed pillows.

We named her Hope, as a companion name for our other dog Faith.

No, we’re not getting a third dog. If we do, I’ll name it something a little less divinely inspired.

How does “Gooch” sound?

Just as an update, Hope has become a challenge in the last year. As she has come into her own mentally, she’s become aggressive to Faith and other animals in general. In those events we have to take on the persona of a pack leader and express to her in the most calm and assertive of manners that we are the boss and she needs to stand down.

For the most part we have to keep the two of them separated in order to avoid a heated argument between Faith and Hope.

We’re still working on the relationship between those two. It’s just going to take some time.

Hope hasn’t been feeling well lately.

The experience of a pit bull losing her lunch has become a genuine assault on the senses as of late. First you hear the rhythmic heaves which serve as a notification to you (the audience) that the next ten minutes of your life is not going to be what you originally expected.

You subsequently rush to her in hopes of getting her outside, but deep down you know that you’re going to be fractions of a second too late. The key indicator there is that juicy sounding splat which follows the heave. That, of course, is the dog food which you had originally hoped would be processed through the other end of her alimentary canal.

The smell quickly follows, and if you’re unfortunate enough to be there with hand on her collar trying to rush her out (you were too late), you’ve seen it too.


Had enough on the description about my dog getting sick?

Doesn’t matter. I have.

After a few days too many of continued vomiting and lethargy, we opted to take Hope to the vet.

You guessed it. Blockage.

A whole bunch of it.

Primarily cotton or it’s synthetic equivalent, however there was some red string and plastic in there too.

Surgery has taken place, and she’ll be able to come home on Monday. I’m debating whether to make a diorama out of what was removed.

Where do you put something like that though?

Ironically enough a family member had emergency surgery this week in order to clear a blockage too. I’m pretty sure the excess consumption of cotton from a doggie bed wasn’t involved in that one though.

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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