Get me a medical degree...STAT!

Ok. So sometimes...I don't have a lot to share. And other times...my life events are kinda worth sharing. I think? Anyway. Sometimes I think I'm lucky enough to have random bursts of profoundness. Sometimes...I can be profound. Other times...blogs serve as a minute peek inside a life. How cool?! This peek inside my life proves 1 thing very profoundly...I was in the right place at the right time. Legit. I really was.

Tonight, the girls hockey team I fake help coach had an away game. I wasn't sure I'd make it back in time for my overnight shift. And if I'm gonna be completely honest...I thought maybe I woulda been back in time for my shift, but I wasn't too certain i would be able to stay awake for my shift. So I used my better judgement. I didn't go. I'm glad they won...but I'm even more glad i didn't go. And here's why. I heard my mom open the laundry room door and greet my spastic 7 pound ferocious Yorkie. She brougt him into the garage with her so he could 'help her carry in the groceries' I groggily opened my crusted, sinus eye lids and heard a shout. I sat up and listened harder. My mom was yelling something. I flung the blanket off me and leapt off the couch and hurried to the garage. My mom was saying something about my dog having gotten into the trash that was on it's way to the trash cans. I looked and spotted the torn hole in the trash bag. I slipped on my dads big honkin' shoes and ran down the steps. My dog was walking around with his head stooped and trying to lie down.

I inspected the trash bag. Chicken bones were sticking out of the hole. Normally I would've panicked. This has happened before. His eyes would begin to close, his breathing labored and his tongue would turn blue. My mom picked him up and out of desperation and anger that he was choking, I screamed at him and shoved my fingers into his little mouthful of teeth to try to make him gag up the chicken bones. He's just as stubborn as I am. He didn't want to let that food go. He had worked so hard to rip thru that stinkin trash bag. No way he was just gonna give up the precious chicken just because I was yelling at him and cramming my fingers down his throat, past his little (and very sharp!) teeth. It wasnt working. My mom put him down, hoping that he would just bring it up on his own without the forced gagging. He continued to just circle the garage, clearly in angst. He would lie down then get back up. I didnt know what to do!

 Finally I reached down and grabbed him around his tummy. I lifted him up so his back legs were in the air and that forced his head downward. I started to gently massage his tummy hoping that would force the chicken bones out. It actually worked. But he didn't want to let the food go! I could hear him bringing up the food but he just wouldn't give up. But neither would I. I used my nicest tone, as if he could understand me, and just kept saying, it's ok, it's ok. I kept massaging his little tummy and hoping he would eventually throw up the chicken bones. After about 5 minutes my mom said, "Pull him away, pull him away!" I did and he finally threw up some of the bones. I listened to his breathing and I could tell he was still laboring. It wasn't all out. I put him back down on the ground and kept massaging around his belly and coaxing him to let it go. A few more minutes, and some silent prayers and he threw up the rest. I wiped his face and listened again to his breathing. His eyes looked tired and heavy but I knew he was ok. I rubbed his back and just kept saying, it's ok. It's ok. As if my human comfort was doing anything. I put him down to see how he would walk. Or if he would circle and then lie down. He started walking around, frantically. I got nervous but then I realized he was just trying to find the rest of the chicken. He was back to normal.

That little brat. It was definitely scary. And gross, i might add. But after I walked in the house and fed him a treat for my life-saving efforts, I realized if I had gone to that game, I wouldn't have been home yet. I would've gotten a frantic phone call from my mom on my way home. Driving thru sideways blowing rain. And I would've freaked out. I wouldn't have known what to do. And honestly, I didn't know what to do for the little guy while he was choking. Then instinctively, I reached down and started massaging his tummy. Like I knew what I was doing. Ha! I had no idea. But it worked. And that little brat is back to normal. At this hour, I imagine he's snuggled up nice and tight to my mom under a mound of blankets. Right where he should be.