We were in DC last week visiting relatives. Apparently at some point, Lucky (my dad's dog) got into some fleece I had lying around and ate it. We didn't know he'd done this. He'd never done it before.
Monday night he was fine. He threw up a little, but it's not hugely uncommon for our dogs to throw up a little bile. Tuesday morning he ate breakfast and seemed well. Later in the day, he started acting depressed. We weren't too concerned initially, because he's also a poop eater, and we figured maybe he got some bad poop and just had a tummy upset.
Tuesday afternoon he started throwing up. And when he threw up wool, we had an idea what was going on. We were hoping he'd thrown up what he needed to, and would be ok.
Wednesday morning he still wasn't feeling well, so we took him to the vet. X-rays showed he still had a distended stomach, but he was a bit dehydrated and the vet wanted to get his condition up a little before she did any surgery to see if he had a blockage. Plus, he threw up some more wool, and passed some out the other end too, so we were kinda hopeful that he could get rid of it without surgery. He was 9 years old, and had some liver issues, so we wanted to be conservative.
It didn't work. Lucky passed away this morning (Friday 5/30.)
I feel like shit. I feel like it's all my fault, and that I didn't take care of my dad's dog for him. I am blaming myself in every possible way I can blame myself.
Keep your dogs away from your fiber, people. Be more careful than you think you need to be. I will be from now on. But it's too late for Lucky.
He'll be cremated, and we'll put his ashes on my dad's grave. And they'll be together again.