It cost us an extra $100 at the vet to have a stool sample checked and medications prescribed for both dogs.
Now I guess I finally know what it's like to have a child in daycare. You really are at the mercy of the other mommies and daddies to keep their kids home when they're sick.
Anyway, Gus wasn't allowed to go back to daycare until his treatment was over - a total of 7 days.
Actually, we could have sent him, but the vet said it would be "morally wrong."
I know this because after day 3, I called and asked.
So, for seven looong days, Gussie had to hang out at home with me and the old dog.
He was not happy.
In fact, the poor little guy was bored out of his mind.
And I nearly lost mine.
It's been a long time since we've had Gus home day after day without daycare. In fact, it's been since we started taking him at 4 1/2 months old.
I thought I'd go crazy those first few months; I remember Googling "How to have a puppy and still have a life."
This week, it all came back to me.
It's not that Gus is a bad dog. He's just still so puppy-ish - full of energy, inquisitive, and an early riser.
Two of those three things I am not.
We thought we were so clever teaching him to ring a bell attached to the door whenever he needs to potty. Our old dog has no way to tell us when nature calls except via body language. That and a pretty consistent schedule.
This works fine when I'm around, but other household members are not quite as adept at reading his signs.
So, Gus learned to ring the bell when he needs to go out. And it works great. He hasn't had an accident now for months and months.
The problem is that Gus has learned to ring the bell whenever he wants to go outside for any reason.
Have a hankering for a good sniff around the yard? Ring the bell.
Want a treat? Ring the bell. All you have to do is squeeze out a single drop!
Need to check on that rawhide you buried? Yep, just give the old bell a pull.
All this bell-ringing requires a lot of up and down and in and out on my part.
At least I won't get blood clots in my legs.
It's always fun to chase a cat, or grab something off the table, or "fetch" the mail. All those toys are old hat. He needs something to do!
Don't let those short little legs fool you - basset hounds are adept counter surfers - nothing is safe. If you ever come over to my house and see loaves of bread on top of the cupboards and cakes on top of the refrigerator this is why.
After a couple hours of Gus duty the other morning, I thought he'd finally found some toy to interest him. Turns out, he'd been taking potatoes off the counter and chewing them up. Fortunately we caught him after the third spud.
On the flip side, Gus can squirm under almost anything. His favorite is to go under the foot stool to grab magazines and/or cats, or just to lick the floor. Which is fine, but if he licks too much before we've had a chance to vacuum, he throws up fur that night in his kennel. Usually around 2:35.
Of course, this doesn't mean he can get his bone or his ball out from under the couch. Or the TV cupboard, or the end table, the refrigerator, the stove...
We've also discovered that our sweet little hound fashions himself a bit of a climber. That's right - we often have to pull him down from the back of the couch, grab him as he perches on top of a chair reaching for the mantle, and dash in for a rescue when he climbs the woodpile outdoors.
He can't be out in the yard alone for several reasons, tops among them his tendency to eat stuff he shouldn't. This ranges from old chicken bones and candy wrappers the neighbor kids throw over the fence (yes, I live in that kind of neighborhood) to cat poop from the areas stray cats (the woman who lives behind us feeds the strays creating an ever burgeoning problem with feral cats).
Inevitably he finds one of these delicacies when I'm in my robe and slippers. Basset hounds are known for their selective hearing and Gus is no exception. No amount of calling can persuade him to leave such a treasure. And it's no fun to tromp across the wet, cold lawn at 6 a.m. in my pj.'s.
Gus loves coffee. This often requires a certain amount of juggling of the cup until he decides it's no longer worth the effort to sneak a quick taste. The wild slurping we heard the other day wasn't Gus getting a drink of water. Nope, someone had left a half-full cup of coffee on the dining room table. I caught him balanced on a chair lapping it up as fast he could.
Finally, after only three full-time Gus days, we realized there was only one thing to do. A tired dog equals a happy owner, so we took him to the dog park, making sure to grab his poop before it hit the ground (fortunately, Gus rarely poops at the park). After a good hour and a half, after which he needed a bath from all the mud (he is, after all, a low-to-the-ground hound), he was conked out for the rest of the day.
Whew.
It's a good thing I love him.
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