tucker
Gotta be covered from head to toe to protect yourself from the wormie germies.
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Comments: 0
The Grossest Thing You Will Ever Read
Hi.
To be honest, I don't really know why I am writing this post. I guess I just feel like everyone else should have to experience the horror? Also this is my journal after all, and I'll write whatever the **** I think is worth remembering. And THIS is worth remembering. *shudders* *gags* *gags while shuddering*
So, let's set the scene. It's 1:00 am and the three amigos are sleeping (me, J, and Tucker, duh). I wake up to the sound of Tucker gagging. I immediately remember my friend Jovanna telling me about her dog throwing up and how she almost caught it in her hands but wasn't to that dog mom level yet. I, also, was not at that dog mom level yet (and probably will never be) so I just laid there.
(Let's take a short break to talk about me crying. If you know me IRL you know that I HATE CRYING. Like, the most uncomfortable situation I can think of myself in, is of me crying in front of someone who isn't also crying. I would rather stand butt naked in front of a crowd than cry in front of them. Idk why I am like this.
So naturally, I RARELY cry. Like if you see me cry, you better bottle those tears up because they will heal wounds. #iamaphoenix
The last time I cried was a year ago. I got sick and threw up for the first time since like, the 6th grade and I HATE throwing up. So I came back from the bathroom and BAWLED for a solid ten minutes. J was, validly, very weirded out.
But since then, I have cried 0 tears. (Well, now I am remembering another time I cried after getting my boobs chopped off (my mother hates when I phrase my breast reduction this way, hi mom).)
OK ANYWAY. I JUST DON'T CRY A LOT, OK? AND WHEN I DO IT'S LIKE, .5 TEARS.)
Ok so back to the story. So it's 1:00 am, Tucker is gagging, and I'm wondering if I'll ever be a good enough dog mom to catch his vomit in my hands. Second later: vomit. Everywhere. Vomit everywhere.
I wake J up (why do I do this?) and we clean it up and then go back to bed. No harm no foul. Well, LITTLE DID WE KNOW.
This was on the third night when we vomit proofed the room... and then he ended up not throwing up lol
The next night, Tucker gets up, again, at 1:00 am and throws up. I wake J up again and we go our separate ways. Me to put Tucker somewhere he can't attempt to eat his own vomit, and J to get the cleaning supplies. We meet back in the bedroom and J, with his hand full of paper towels, goes to grab the vomit.
The next night, Tucker gets up, again, at 1:00 am and throws up. I wake J up again and we go our separate ways. Me to put Tucker somewhere he can't attempt to eat his own vomit, and J to get the cleaning supplies. We meet back in the bedroom and J, with his hand full of paper towels, goes to grab the vomit.
I was like, "Wait..." I looked closer to see there was spaghetti in Tucker's throw up. Which was weird because we don't give Tucker people food. And also we hate spaghetti.
Only then the spaghetti's started moving. Like, stretching 5 inches above the vomit and trying to get away.
I yelled, "J THERE ARE WORMS IN THERE. THERE ARE WORMS IN THERE!!!" J was like, "What?!!!! No...... OH MY GOSH!!!"
Only then the spaghetti's started moving. Like, stretching 5 inches above the vomit and trying to get away.
I yelled, "J THERE ARE WORMS IN THERE. THERE ARE WORMS IN THERE!!!" J was like, "What?!!!! No...... OH MY GOSH!!!"
Naturally, I immediately ran out of the room and into the furthest corner of the apartment, like any good wife would. J cleaned them up while I obsessively washed my hands, avoiding Tucker (who we now lovingly call Worms) at all costs because #wormgerms. As we crawled back into bed it for some reason just clicked to me that like, we have this gross dog with worms and like, he's been all over our bed and licks incessantly and I most likely have worms too. So, I started crying. Like, a lot. And sob-talking, which is equally as horrible. I ended up crying myself back to sleep, with J holding me and most likely wondering how I was supposed to be the mother of his children. (Not pregnant.)
The next morning we avoided Tucker like the plague. I came home from work and completely cleaned and sanitized everything in our room. Like, washed everything in hot water and wiped down every surface with alcohol wipes.
Gotta be covered from head to toe to protect yourself from the wormie germies.
I announced this fiasco on my Facebook, and everyone was like, "It's fine! He'll be fine! They are common!" assuming I was worried about Tucker. But in real life I was like, "Ok that's great but can we talk about me for a second?? Tucker was like, the last of my concerns. So if you're wondering why I don't have kids yet, there ya go.
Tucker chillin' at the vet while she told us he had three different parasites. One of which she had never heard of before.
We took him to the vet the day after and she explained to us worms are transported fecal-oral. So like I'd have to eat his poop to get them pretty much. So, I maybe over reacted just a little bit. But honestly, I wouldn't be my true self if I didn't overreact for the entertainment of others. (This is how I justify it to myself.)
Currently, Worms (I mean Tucker) is on some puppy powder that's going to run us about $500 by the time he's done with it (yay for student loans). He is very happy and doesn't seem to know he has worms. I am also in a better place and do not believe I have worms. J, however, believed he had worms shortly after I got over my fear of worms. He thought he had them for a two day period and experienced much distress, but is also doing better now.
The positive to all of this is that probably nothing will ever be grosser than seeing worms in your dogs vomit. No baby fluids or rotten foods could possibly beat that. So, I guess we have that out of the way with. Although, we also learned that me + gross things = running away and crying uncontrollably. So, I'm not sure what kind of future that prepares me for. Luckily I am married to the world's nicest person who will not only clean up gross worm vomit, but then rub the back of his 23 year old wife while she cries about vomit. He's a true gem, that one.
Now, who wants spaghetti??
Now, who wants spaghetti??
XOXO
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