I know I write a lot about saving back money for emergencies. Whether it’s a car repair, a furnace malfunction, or a trip to the ER, you never know when you’ll need a stockpile of cash to see you through life’s mishaps. A few weeks ago, I lived that experience myself thanks to everyone’s favorite mastiff, Moose, and my kitchen hand towel.
Here’s what happened. Moose, the ever-eating, ever-growing, always bouncing doggy that I’ve come to love stopped eating. He stopped drinking. He stopped bouncing. I knew something was wrong...cue the vet visit.
After a quick examination, he was off for an x-ray. After 20 minutes, Moose was back by my side, and the vet arrived with the x-rays and the light box - never a good sign. Sure enough, Moose had something in his stomach that didn’t belong. The vet recommended a few more tests to be certain it was a blockage before opting for surgery that evening. I went back to work, Moose went under the knife, and that evening my family waited by the phone, anxious for news about our 120 lb. baby.
By 7 PM we were getting pretty nervous. At 8 PM we were certain something had gone terribly wrong. My phone rang at 9 PM, and the vet let us know that Moose had done well in surgery, but it was more extensive than they’d realized it would be - hence the 3 hour long operation. He’d be spending the night at the vet’s office, and we were welcome and come and see him that next day, Saturday, and figure out if he was ready to head home.
Saturday morning, I got the kids ready to go and we all piled into the van. Upon arrival, we were brought into the back room of the vet’s office, a previously mysterious and off limits location. Moose lay on a pile of blankets. The vet brought a silver bowl over to me and showed me what the problem was. Sure enough, there lay the remains of a kitchen hand towel. Moose, despite going through 20 lb. of food a week, apparently still had an appetite, and had snuck away with the towel a few days before. I looked at him, laying on his pile of blankets, still hooked up to an IV for fluids, and he looked back at me, his pupils dilated with pain meds, his body hurting, and his trust that his masters would take care of him somehow unbroken, despite his condition. He gave his tail a small wag, and I took it for forgiveness. We all piled back into the van with a shopping bag full of medicine and headed home.
Thankfully, Moose is back to his old self. He bounces around like a hyperactive bunny rabbit every day, and we’re very careful to remove any tempting “chew toys” from his reach if we’re not there to supervise. And here’s the thing - through all the sick-to-my-stomach worry and fear of the experience, I didn’t have to wonder how I’d pay for it. That’s why we’re building up an emergency fund again, and you should too. I’m Claire, the Afena blog mom. Thanks for reading.