This Dog Is In Good, If Slightly Hysterical, Hands

My dog and I are close; I will be the first to admit that I am a bit of a helicopter pet parent, and I am always on the lookout for potential issues (most notoriously, ear infections), but this one takes the cake.

I woke up at about 2 am because Morrison (the aforementioned dog) was making a weird noise. I attempted to wake her. No response. I attempted to lift her. She was dead weight and limp. So I did the only reasonable thing: reacted in a blind panic, convinced myself she was dead, and promptly performed resuscitation while screaming blue murder for my husband to wake up. He’s greeted by me sobbing uncontrollably, Morrison blinking in confusion as now I’m convinced she has just returned from the dead due to my quick thinking, and immediately calls the ER vet in the area to see if we can come in. They say yes, we move dog #2 (Cobain) into her kennel until we return, and we’re speeding down the road to the other side of town twenty-five minutes away.

On the drive, I woke up my mother, because I was hysterical and begging Morrison not to die, and my husband needed someone to talk me down. They finally get me in some kind of rational headspace, and we pull up to the ER vet.

Morrison has to go in alone (because social distancing), so I’m sitting in the car, still crying because obviously, my dog is dying, as my poor husband tries to field my hysterical predictions and respond to the Vet techs calling him for information.

Two hours (and only $50 later – they felt bad for me), we got a diagnosis: Morrison is a heavy sleeper and goes limp during deep sleep (like normal animals). There is literally nothing wrong with her, but how I didn’t give her a heart attack is beyond me.

And of course, the ER Vet had to call our normal vet to update her files, so now my vet brings it up every time I go in. Classic.