Two days in a row of mid-60s temps with great sunshine allowed for delightful outside time this past week. Sumner and I did a briefer walk down around the Salem Gateway area on Wednesday. Later in the afternooon, I drove my car down to the VW dealership for service, popped my old iPod earbuds in, and enjoyed the roughly 45-minute walk back home to the house in the bright warm light of day. On Thursday, it was a virtual carbon-copy afternoon for walking back down to the dealership in order to pick it up again. Both days also allowed for some extensive weeding in the various plant beds around the house, plus some sitting time in the camp chairs on the driveway.
Thursday's dinnertime was greeted with a hearty appetite as a result, but I still tried to play it smart and healthy. I was ready for some roasted salmon, which was excellent, and it sat nicely on Caesar-dressed greens for a filling dinner salad.
I also had to do some out of the ordinary cooking, thanks to several days of unfortunate gastrointestinal distress that Sumner began experiencing last weekend. Saturday and Sunday nights he was having to get me up about every two hours thanks to serious but controlled diarrhea (he's such a good pup—no accidents in the house!). By Monday he was also beginning to vomit bile, so it wasn't clearing up on its own.
The tried-and-true remedy of chicken, plain rice, and a bit of broth was called for. Please note: this is the first time in nearly four years of living here that Sumner has been given any people food.
One might say he liked it.
I recall that some years ago, on some work trip, when I was listening to various podcasts, Ira Glass of This American Life told of his own dog's dietary issues that required cycling through a whole host of specially-prepared and increasingly expensive foods to find something that could work. That deep love we can develop for our pets was issued sort of an ultimate testament when, finally, I think he ended up having to special-order and cook-just-so something wild and expensive like kangaroo meat.
I don't think we are going to go so far as that, where Sumner is concerned. His Friday morning pitstop showed a marvelous return to normalcy but he's going to be gifted a few more days with these special meals until it seems he's back on the right track for good.
A number of years ago, my father-in-law told the story of one old-timer dropping by a fellow geezer's house just at feeding time, which was a dog bowl of spinach. The visitor remarked: "My dog would never eat spinach." And the second fellow replied: "Mine wouldn't either, for the first two weeks." I wonder if a similar story might have to play out to get Sumner back to his routine here!
