Jackson Gets Teabagged

Well, almost.

We arrived at Caliente to find the patio hopping: a large group next to us, with a kid, and three women nearby. With a male bulldog. Off the leash.

We headed for the empty corner table. The bulldog immediately trotted over to visit. Jackson was on-leash, which can make a guy defensive, so we were nervous. But, charmingly, the bulldog started licking Jackson's balls* like they were pepperoni. Jackson was okay with that. Of course everyone on the patio was in hysterics at that point. Except for Stacy: mortified, face hidden in hands.

After a couple of minutes of this extreme socialization, the bulldog's owner called him back, and, at Stacy's request, leashed him. Things settled down. Jackson had his favorite squeak toy, a pelican in a tutu (photo above). We were able to get him down on his mat for chunks of time, and we got through the meal. I got hammered on fine beers.

When the bulldog group was leaving, the owner apologized. I told her my dog wanted her dog's number. She said that the vet had told her that her dog was "totally gay." (I haven't kept up with canine sexual orientation testing; apparently it's quite advanced.) I said that Jackson was straight, but willing to experiment.

All in all, a successful brunch.

* What's left of them, anyway.

Flower Child

Sick As A Dog

A few weeks back, we started giving Jackson marrow bones a couple of times a week. He loves them, and the hours of chewing do wonders for his teeth. Win-win.

Then, last Monday, I gave him a marrow bone and he disappeared it in minutes, not hours. Same batch of bones, and we were keeping them frozen, so no idea why this bone was different. Whatever. He seemed none the worse for it.

Tuesday into Wednesday, we both noticed that his poop seemed looser than usual. But not off-the-charts. Whatever.

Wednesday night, we came home from dinner with friends. I took Jackson out. His poop looked damn near like diarrhea. Hmm.

Then, back in the house, we noticed some diarrhea on the floor, near the door, as if he hadn't quite been able to hold himself together till we got outside. Hmmmm. We cleaned it up and crossed our fingers.

Then, about half-an-hour later, we heard an odd noise.

"Was that you?" Stacy asked from the living room.

"No. Did Jackson puke?" I asked from upstairs.

Stacy checked the kitchen; Jackson had puked. All his dinner had come out in one large tidy pile of kibble loaf, with pieces of bone in it. I scooped it up with a spatula.

Over the next six hours, Jackson spent a lot of time in the backyard, puking and squirting diarrhea. We used the hose to keep things clean. Stacy spent the night on the couch in the kitchen (big kitchen), next to Jackson, so that she could pop up and get him into the yard whenever he needed. Happened several times. Last puke around midnight, last diarrhea around 4 AM.

Thursday, we gave Jackson just a bit of kibble for breakfast, and stuck to the alleys for walks. Still diarrhea, but he had no problem holding it in till we walked - no accidents, no urgent trips to the backyard. And no puking. In the evening, we gave him a cup of kibble.

Friday morning, we gave Jackson almost his normal breakfast. Stools loose, but under control. Friday evening, full meal, and his poop was pretty much back to normal.

This morning, normal meal, normal poop, crisis over. Way leery of the marrow bones, though. I threw out the batch we had, and we know now that we shouldn't have let Jackson eat the actual bone. Once the marrow's gone, it's time to take the bone away.

Unfortunately, Jackson has to pay the tuition for our education.