my unhappy tummy
woke me up early again.
guess i will eat grass.
- baxter, 5.1 years old, now resting comfortably and reflecting on his yacky sunday morning.
It's a bit of a puzzle really. The little kielbasa's whole yack business this weekend that came with rather unfortunate timing as there are so many factors to consider. The tasty forbidden bunny poops of spring time. The transition from both old can and bag of food to new ones. The tiny tomato past its prime. His willingness to stand out in the cold wet backyard to graze on more grass. His otherwise fine demeanor and ever bright eyed desire to consume tasty tiny bites the foods he loves, save for the new kibble that was willing to eat yesterday with some mild convincing, that he now most vehemently schnubs. The fact that he had cha-chingy
overnight stay at the emergency vet for hemorrhagic gastroenteritis, or HGE, roughly four years ago. The only time since he was adopted that we were separated for the night.
It's the HGE that really has me in overthink mode. HGE is one of those things that happen without much firm root cause and there are lot of suspicions as to what might cause it. And of course in the past few days, it seems he has had opportunity to come in contact with all the prime suspects. My worst and possibly uneducated theoretical concern? That if I don't manage the morning empty tummy yackies, if his tummy stays empty for too long, all the gurgly acid that his tummy seems to produce in protest would make its way down his digestive tract, and all that extra acid in an empty environment would trigger the inexplicable bloody horror of HGE. So giving his tummy something to do after a morning yack is critical. Job number one.
Normally a few bits of kibble does the trick, but this past weekend the kibble he so normally gobbles down without a thought has been spat back out. At first, I wasn't sure if he was schnubbily protesting the lack of fishy kibble that I had sprinkled in the old bag. But this morning, even after his kibble container was thoroughly stunk up with the stinky turkey patty I left in it overnight, his tummy told him to schnub his kibble while accepting eagerly licking at the spoon of wet I subsequently offered him. Okay, that's it. Tummy you win. Let's try a different bag of fresh kibble, and yep, let's get some white rice too, just in case.
Tiny chumley is snoozing comfortably by george under cover of blankie as I write this, and really he seems no worse for wear, no different than any other day at this time. But as he sleeps, as his dad is off to get a new bag of kibble and a small bag of white rice, I wait. Wondering what next his tummy will choose to do, and wondering what I will do next.
