I’ve been a follower of the wonderful Sunday Scaries since before I was even a post grad, back then, I didn’t really get them. I had an internship during college, sure, but I loved it and well, everyone’s life is in shambles to a certain degree while in school. Impending Monday’s just weren’t as daunting or anxiety inducing then. Once I graduated and became a post-grad is really when I realized the true feeling behind them. Since then, I’ve always felt the Sunday Scaries I feel are average. Overall, I enjoy my job and the work I do so they’re there, but they’re not that bad. I get the occasional spike in anxiety on particularly rowdy weekends, sure, but until this past Sunday, it’s never been all that bad. This past Sunday was the scariest I’ve experienced to date and while alcohol was involved, it wasn’t because of that.
This past Sunday my significant other and I woke up slightly hungover from a fun night with friends. Some of mine were in town for our college soccer alumni game and it was a great time catching up and hanging out with people that I, sadly, don’t see enough of these days. We were up rather early for having gone out the night before but soon realized that we hadn’t woken up on our own. Our dog, Mason, was throwing up on our bedroom floor. Great.
We both ho-hummed and got up to clean the mess. Not what you want to deal with hungover on a Sunday at 8 am but also, not the worst thing in the world. Now, I’m not being heartless towards our pup when I say this. He’s part lab which means he eats literally anything on the floor and is also cursed with a sensitive stomach so the throwing up isn’t exactly new to us. It happens with him from time to time. If it persists is when we usually will call the vet and get some advice. He’s two now and we’ve had him since he was three months old so we had a good system by now and honestly, the throwing up had never been serious.
Once we’d cleaned up the mess we put him in his crate, planning to leave him in for an hour, not as a punishment but to protect the floors. He was crate trained young so he doesn’t view it as a punishment and will even lay in there on his own from time to time. We crawled back to bed, planning to watch the Office and have a lazy Sunday morning before getting groceries and doing regular Sunday chores later.
We ended up dozing off for a bit and are woken up to my sister coming into our room startled. She tells us there’s blood all over Mason’s crate. We go out to his crate and sure enough, he’s vomiting up
Once we got there, it was a bit easier. He stopped throwing up and managed to not throw up in the car (what a good boy). And once there, the tech (dog nurse?) assured us that he was going to be fine and it could even be as simple as a severe digestion issue. While, personally, I was still losing my mind, this was comforting at least a little.
Long story short, we were at the vet for 6 hours, and he’s okay. Thank goodness. Apparently, he’d eaten a bone the night before too quickly and it’d caused some digestive issues which led to severe inflammation and stomach lining issues. He had a physical,
Today, I can look at that happy puppy face and everything is okay, but yesterday was probably the most scared I’ve ever been for a living creature that I’m (and my boyfriend) responsible for and that fact alone hit me hard. I’m responsible for this adorable, loving, overly energetic, happy-as-can-be dog and sometimes that is going to be terrifying. It’s one thing to feed them everyday, it’s another to see them whimpering and scared as they vomit blood. Luckily, I have a great teammate who is a bit more cool headed when it comes to puppy emergencies than I am.
This past Sunday really put the true meaning behind Sunday Scaries for me. And that was even before I saw the $994 vet bill.