Last week, Jude got sick. A gross stomach bug that induced vomiting after anything entered the body. A couple of hours later, this stomach bug was passed to Woody and me. Three people down, one lone surviver standing. Stay strong, Riley!!! Luckily, this happened during those snow days. Otherwise Woody would have missed school (maybe) and we would have missed BSF, a highlight of each week.
The following day Riley had a little cold, but no vomit and complete different symptoms. After I drug myself off the couch, I cleaned all the surfaces in our house (or so I thought). So I deemed Riley as lucky for having not gotten this yuck.
Until yesterday, five days later. As I was corralling kids and an excited and shedding Bruiser into the vet's office for his yearly check-up, I hear Riley half cough half gag. Oh dear. Here we go. I yelled out to anyone who might be listening "WHERE IS THE CLOSEST BATHROOM?" Oh praise Jesus that it was only 4 steps away as Riley just made it to the toilet and proceeded to lose her lunch. Bless her soul.
Meanwhile, Jude is behind me telling the vet techs how he got sick last week and puked "all the time." And Bruiser is panting/talking, wagging his tail and hitting it on every surface possible, trying to get away from Riley but can't because I have a death grip on his leash (the same hand also has a death grip on Riley's coat and scarf so it doesn't fall on a floor that may or may not have vomit on it). I hear an unfamiliar voice behind me say, "I've got the dog leash!" So I can focus on Riley say, "Oh, I feel so much better!"
Whew. She seemed to be back to normal so we go into the exam room and continue with our appointment. Bruiser's temperature is abnormally high. Oh, I forgot he too have vomited earlier in the day. Can dog's get sick like us? I had no idea. The vet thoroughly examined him and deemed him a healthy, old dog.
Great! Let's go! Hats on. Coats on. Scarves on. Dog on leash. Where are my keys? I can't find my keys. Maybe I've left my keys next to Jude's car seat and just forgot to grab them- while holding Jude and a dog on a leash.
Get to the car, no keys. WHERE ARE MY KEYS? In the ignition. And thank you Jesus that we live a low-crime town where I can leave my keys in my ignition and the car is still there when I'm ready to leave. (This is the second time I've done this in Bentonville. The first time I was 9 months pregnant. Pregnancy brain/mommy brain= same thing)
Long story not so long, Riley has the full blown stomach bug and continues to throw up all contents that enter her body. All day. All evening. Most of the night.
Enter bath time. I asked if she even wanted a bath to which she answered, "Yes, that will make me feel better." Aawww, I'm always struck by her sweet soul at the oddest times. As she walks gingerly into the bathroom, she takes the position to throw up again while Jude takes the position to pee. Oh dear, I think, this isn't going to end well. He just finishes peeing when Riley's water makes a second appearance mixed with stomach bile through full body heaves. Jude, Riley's constant encourager, yells out, "THAT'S THE SPIRIT, RILEY!" Where did that come from? I've never heard that phrase from his mouth, and it's not exactly the correct context, but good try buddy. I always love how encouraging they are to each other in a new or uncomfortable situation, and I think this was the only way Jude knew how to love on her in his three year old heart. I half laughed and half cried at how funny and cute it was.
After a night's rest and a BRAT breakfast, Riley is on the mend and has kept all foods down. Jude is back to his usual love language of jumping on her, and she seems to embrace the normalcy of his affection.
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