In Which I Sleep on the Floor with the Dog

I am a bad Dog Mom.

I didn't mean to be.  I was trying to be a Good Dog Mom.  But it backfired on me.

Sunday we took two out of three dogs to the river for a romp.  The two big dogs (Flower and Roxy) get to go because they A) love water, B) need the exercise, and C) don't disappear over the horizon the second they are off the leash, or else run barking at small children and large dogs or else plow right into the middle of a riverside baptism, like SOME dogs do.

The little dog stays home.

The two dogs have very different ideas of what constitutes a good time at the river.  Flower thinks a good time is running through the tall grass in the nearby field, exploring the woods, and rolling on dead things. Roxy thinks a good time is leaping into the water and swimming after whatever stick, frisbee, or ball you (or anybody, for that matter) have thrown... over and over and over.  Roxy will chase the stick, frisbee, or ball until she drops dead or your arm falls off, whichever comes first.  I know this.  I know that I have to monitor how much time we spend playing, because she won't stop... ever.

Sunday, we sort of lost track of time.

Now, when Flower gets tired, she plops down somewhere and rests.  When her feet get sore and tired of walking on river rocks, she stands in the grass and refuses to come down to the bank. This is because Flower is not a crazy.

When Roxy gets tired, she barks at you to throw it again, throw it again, throw it again.  She simply refuses to acknowledge or admit fatigue and spends pretty much the entire time in motion:  swimming, running, or jumping. She also doesn't show that she's tired and sore (I honestly don't think she even knows she is) until you get her home.  This is because Roxy is crazy.

Last night she was so sore and tired that, once she had limped into the house and lay down on the floor, she wouldn't get up, even to eat.  I had to set her bowl down between her paws.  She growled at John when he tried to lift her onto the sofa. By 8:00 she was whining continually, so I gave her a tramadol, and was then obliged to give her another every 4 hours all night long.  When the pills wore off, she would cry and wake me up.  Then she'd cry until the pills took hold again.  She was so pitiful that I finally got out of bed and lay down on the floor next to her and rubbed her belly while we waited for the medicine to kick in.  It was the only thing that kept her quiet.

I felt terrible. Now I'm worried that she may have damaged her ACL like she did once before.  This means another $200 in dog drugs, if not surgery.  So, like I said, I've been a really baaaad Dog Mom. For my penance, I suppose I will wake up every four hours and lay on the floor with the dog.