SUMMARY: Do we have a sick dog or do we not?
It's five in the morning. It's dark, it's cold. I'm awakened suddenly by that too-familiar hyook...hyook... sound of a dog about to toss her cookies.
My first thought is always: Don't do it on the carpet! I try leaping to my feet while simultaneously disentangling the bedclothes, turning on the light, and trying to figure out which dog it is and where she's located. I'm not very efficient at this process, still half in dreamland.
Lights on, it's Tika, her head over the side of the bed like a seasick sailor over the edge of the boat, except No no it's so much easier to clean up on the bed (or in the bathroom) than on the carpet!
Too late--as I grab for her to either push her back or pull her into the bathroom, one final double-size HYooeahhh-- but all that comes out is one solitary long tendril, which adheres to the side of the mattress, on the multicolored floral-print sheet.
The tendril looks reddish.
OK, is she vomiting blood or isn't she? I can't tell exactly with the pink-and-yellow-and-blue pattern underneath, and there's so little there. Wipe it with a paper towel (always on hand in the bedroom for such situations)--OK, yeah, I think I see a spec of red in with the usual color.
But there's so little of it, Tika looks so happy to see me up and moving around, and I'm so tired and my head is so congested. Dogs go briefly outside to do whatever relieving they need to do--I hear no more hyooks-- and we all go back to bed and everything seems completely normal this morning.
But now there's this horror in the back of my mind--why would she have blood in her spit-up? Why?