I’ve faced many horrors and difficulties in life, but nothing could have prepared me for this.
My little dog, Poppy, fell ill.
Well, “ill” may be an understatement… She had gorged on everything in sight.
I have no idea where that fifteen-centimeter bundle of fur hides an extra six stomachs. She demands food with a fervor only seen in the most dedicated of orphans and seems never to be satisfied.
Naturally, we fall for her antics and feed her generously. Like fools, honestly. Loving fools. Very soft-hearted ones.
How could anyone not pity her? She has those eyes, just like in the song my dad brought back from his expedition to Mongolia, which he sang to me in place of lullabies: “And I sat and bitterly cried, that I ate so little and… well, my apologies.”
Every time she looks at us, it’s as if it’s for the last time. How can you resist giving her a piece of mango or a little fish?
Thank goodness she doesn’t drink; I can’t imagine how we would handle that situation.
So, there she was, once again having overindulged, and suddenly she seemed to be dying. One moment she was a cheerful pup, and the next, she resembled a dying swan with her neck twisted, making it feel like a scene from Saint-Saëns’ “Carnival of the Animals.”
We scrambled to help. Searching for ticks. Taking her temperature. The thermometer broke under the pressure. She rolled her eyes, bid us farewell, and lay down as if to pass away.
A taxi ride. Traffic jams. Tears of farewell. The best veterinarian in the universe.
While she was still healthy and irritated us with her endless appetite, I thought, “Why did I ever get involved in this pet business? I should have just taken her back to the shelter, she’s drained my soul!” But as she lay there, it turned into, “Oh my little darling, how can I manage without you now?”
We arrived. The veterinarian pronounced the sacred words: “Cold, hunger, and comfort.” A full day without food or water, then gradually offering her some, and another injection followed, taking the same daring route.
He somewhat calmed us and sent us on our way.
An hour after the injections, Poppy perked up. They switched off Saint-Saëns, and in her eyes sparked that same insatiable fire of a hungry orphan. Food! Water! Give me something! I’m going to die, you dreadful people!
The spot on the floor that had once held her bowls was licked clean. Beneath the table, she found a stray lid and raced around the house with it till morning, hoping something edible would drop into it.
But no. We resolutely held our ground. The terrifying moment came when we remembered we had a cat in the house who also needed to eat and drink.
Good heavens… The door we held shut together, me and my partner, groaned as if a tiny dog was smashing against it with a battering ram. But we held our position with all our strength.
We spent the night in anxiety and dread, as the dog made three attempts to break into the fridge with her curious little paws.
She whined and huffed with such determination that we doubted her sickness at least a dozen times. Eventually, this poor creature plopped down on the floor, right in front of my head, and hypnotized me with her accusatory stare until six in the morning, not allowing me to sleep.
By morning, I resolved that the whole family would not eat until we received the vet’s signal, because even the sight of a cup of coffee sent Poppy leaping almost to eye level. Not mine, sadly. It was Ilya, who stands at a towering 192 centimeters—good luck living with that!
By lunchtime, I surrendered and stealthily crept to the fridge. Silently, with one powerful tug, I opened a can of peas, scooped a spoonful, but my hand shook and two peas fell to the floor, landing on my slipper.
Good heavens… I almost lost my foot… That little insatiable creature inhaled the peas along with the little pompom that adorned my slippers…
And there’s still a week of dietary restrictions ahead.
I don’t know how we’ll survive or where we’ll run. I’m writing this from the bathroom, locked in. If anything happens, please don’t remember me in a bad light.
I think my body will last her no more than three days.
And then? The thought is terrifying…
