Last Christmas, we were in the throes of Wally's medical mystery tour. In the two weeks leading up to Christmas, Wally had been back and forth to the vet a half-dozen times and had spent several nights at the emergency vet. No one could tell us what was wrong with him. All we knew was that he was listless, wasn't eating, and had dangerously low protein levels. During one visit to the emergency vet, we'd even been told to prepare to put him down. Just before Christmas, however, Wally seemed to bounce back. By Christmas day, he was almost back to normal.
That normalcy lasted until about 1PM Christmas day. All of a sudden, Wally was on the ground, crying and unable to move. Not knowing what else to do, Kim bundled him into the car and took him off to the 24-hour urgent care center in Gaithersburg. We were certain that was it for him.
While Kim was off with Wally, the kids and I struggled to make it through the rest of Christmas day, pretending like everything was fine. I ended up doing battle with Christmas dinner, preparing a fancy salad, twice-baked potatoes, and a beef brisket while wondering if Kim would make it home in time to sit down with us -- and if she'd do so with Wally in tow.
As it turned out, Wally was fine. After spending the vast majority of our 2011 vacation budget on his care, it turned out that he had doggy IBD! All he needed was a change of diet. An earlier diagnosis would have been nice. But, we're glad to have him healthy and back to normal.
That brings us to this Christmas. I never go for a run on Christmas morning so I was still in bed shortly after 7AM. Normally, Wally waits patiently for Kim to get out of bed before getting up for his breakfast. Not today. He hopped up off his bed and trotted over to the door to the hall. There, he stopped and turned around as if to say "Are you going to get up and feed me, or what?" Since I was already awake, I climbed out of bed, let Ginger out of her crate, and set off downstairs to feed them.
After feeding the dogs and letting them outside, I sat down in the kitchen to wait for them to do their business and come back to the back door. I silently prayed that Wally would take the morning off from barking so that our neighbors could have some peace and quiet on Christmas morning. It was not to be. Wally was out there acting like the "King of the Yard," barking noisily to ward off all who might challenge his authority. "This is ridiculous," I thought. "I'm going to have to go out there and shut him up."
Since Wally was now in the front yard, I headed to the front door. I unlocked it and stepped out onto the porch. "Wally," I hissed. "Stop barking." Wally paid me no mind but Ginger, of course, trotted right up to me. I opened the door to let her inside. That's when I saw my Christmas present from Wally.
Just inside the front door, on the corner of the hall rug, was a pile of Wally's poop. From the look of it, I guessed it was about 2 or 3 hours old. How do I know it was Wally's? Well, Ginger sleeps in a crate. I'd say that pretty much rules her out. Wally must have taken an early morning stroll through the house. I'd left all the Christmas lights on when I went to bed on Christmas Eve so he probably thought someone was waiting for him downstairs. After checking out the gifts under the tree and finding no one else awake, I guess he decided to leave his own gift for me before heading back to bed.
So, that was how Christmas morning started for me this year. As I picked up Wally's mess and deposited it outside, I thought about being upset with him. But, after our adventures last Christmas, and in the spirit of the season, I decided to give him a pass. Merry Christmas, Wally. And, thanks for my present.
This is where the magic happens.
