Our Australian Shepherd thinks she is a lap dog, as she demonstrates in the photo above as she curls around my husband’s neck. Grace is 11 and a great companion and watch dog, though if an intruder actually entered our home, she would probably lick him. I am home alone most days and I am accustomed to her moods and dispositions. I recognize her “It’s the UPS truck” bark and her “I am going to eat the mailman” bark.
But when I came home from the gym on Friday morning, something was definitely wrong with Grace. She was lethargic, lying on the kitchen floor looking forlorn as only a dog can look. I tried enticing her up with an ice cube(her favorite treat), but she ignored me. I was so concerned I called my husband at work and asked him to come home. Meanwhile I sat next to Grace on the floor, rubbing her back, praying for her and worrying. I can catastrophize with the best of them, and my imagination had gone as far as wondering if I could stand to get attached to a new dog if something happened to Grace.
After 15 minutes of my back rubbing and comforting her, Grace suddenly bolted up and stood waiting to go outside. She ran out in the yard, did her business and bounded back up onto the deck. She was just in time to greet my worried husband as he parked his car.
My granddaughter who is planning to be a vet, though at 10 who knows, calmly told me that “dogs get stomachaches just like people, and they are just as uncomfortable.” So I imagine she is right. Still, we are joking that Grace is our “miracle” dog. And it turns out my husband had enough hours in for the week that he didn’t need to go back to the office. So it was all good.