So we ended up cancelling Cooper's vet appointment. She was acting more like herself and she wasn't having diarrhea anymore, so we called off the troops. Then, later that afternoon, she puked on Joe's shoes, which started a whole new cycle of second-guessing and should-we-or-shouldn't-we. However, after another light dinner (rice gruel with chicken broth and some bread crusts--she's starting to eat like someone out of "Oliver Twist," complete with bowl-licking) she's had no more puking and her poop is back to normal. So I still think we're probably OK.
I'm probably still going to pilfer some urinalysis sticks from work, though, just in case. Not that I know what normal values for dog pee are, but I'm assuming that it still shouldn't have large amounts of protein or blood in it. Nor do I know how I'm going to explain to her how to use those wet naps to wipe front to back three times and aim her pee into a cup.
* * *
Cal's favorite two-word phrase these days is "Mama home." I've been working nights this whole week, so having me home during the day is something of a novelty which much be pointed out at all turns. Yesterday was my one day this week that I actually didn't have to spend in the hospital, and as Cal was sitting in my lap watching clips of construction vehicles on You Tube (about which more later), he kept turning to me with this incredulous expression on his face and pointing out, "Mama home," indicating the wonder that was having me around after sundown.
This morning I snuck out of bed to get ready for work (yes, Cal still co-sleeps with us, and I urge the alarmists not to start cavilling that HE'LL BE SLEEPING WITH YOU FOREVER, because I somehow doubt that. There's always college, right?) and was putting on my scrubs out in the living room when Cal woke up. "Mama home?" he asked Joe tremulously, his eyes brimming with tears.
"Do you want to go back to sleep with Daddy?" Joe asked, pointing out helpfully that despite the full sun beaming into our bedroom, it was still only 6:30am.
Cal shook his head. "Mama home?" Again with the big eyes and the unshed tears, like some sort of damn anime character. So Joe took his hand and walked him out to the living room where I was. That look of amazement and happiness on his face when he saw that I was still there was worth tolerating a thousand weeks of night float and a million 5:00pm emergency add-ons. That look on his face is why, despite being on call, I'm having a pretty good Mother's Day.