K was not supposed to be for Keeping Calm. K was supposed to be for Kicking Ass. K was supposed to be my love letter to the sublime River Tam and Buffy Summers and maybe even Sydney Bristow.
So why isn't it?
Because there's something wrong with Big.
If you're new to this blog, Big is my 8 year old German Shepherd. And there's something wrong with him which means that I will find it incredibly difficult to focus on anything other than what's wrong with him until I know what's wrong with him.
Yes, I am crazy protective and possibly over reactive dog mom whose dogs are her kids. The vet probably cringes when my number pops up on the caller id.
But Big's my kid and there's something wrong with him. So that's that.
He's incredibly clingy. Some of you familiar with Big will be laughing at that idea because he's such a Mama's Boy to begin with (in that long standing male German Shepherd tradition), but this is a new level of clinginess that I can't explain. He can't let me out of his sight. Generally, he's content just knowing I'm in the same house or on the same floor of the same house. At his worse (until now), he'll sleep out in the hallway just outside of whatever room I happen to be in.
But now? He's my shadow and the very second I stop moving, he sits on my feet and then lays down so I can't easily get away. And since he's 130 pounds and I'm not, I don't ever get away easily.
This has translated into a sharp increase in the level of anxiety in our household. Big's anxious which makes me anxious. But this is nothing to the anxiety that the Gator Girl feels and projects. She knows something's off with Big too and for her, it translates to a need to tag him at each and every opportunity.
As you can imagine, this has done wonders for Big's anxiety.
You know that riddle you did in school? The one with the man and the rowboat and the goat, the wolf and a bag of oats? The one where the man had to get all three items across the river but could only put one thing at a time in the boat and could only leave certain things together because otherwise things could get eaten?
That's been my life the last twenty four hours.
Even The Man noticed the anxiety and Big's new super fun weirdness when he came home from work yesterday. It concerned him enough to do a Google search (I have no idea what his parameters were) where he apparently found a site that suggested that perhaps Big was clingy because I was pregnant.
Cue spit take.
I'm not pregnant.
This morning, however, his symptoms seem to have expanded from the clinginess. He's not eating, not drinking, he's shadowing my every step with even more voracity and he's crying whenever he's had to walk up something (i.e. a flight of steps or even the one step to get in the car). So I called the vet this morning and left a message because they have later office hours today. Then I put Big in the car and broke some land speed records to get down in the area (our vet is an hour and fifteen minute drive away. There are lots of vets in between but this one is the best one) so that when they call back, we can be seen immediately. Or, if they can't see Big (they will. They do every time he's had an emergency), I'll be closer to the emergency room vets.
But until then, we're keeping calm. Or trying our damnedest. It is important that I remain as calm as possible (even though I am honestly FREAKING OUT) because dogs are so sensitive to what we're feeling. The smallest thing we feel gets magnified for them so Big knows that I'm worried. I just have to keep him from knowing how worried I am because I don't want him to be any more worried than he already is.
Oh-- there's the phone. That'll be the vet because no one else would be stupid enough to call me right now. Chat later...