Wednesday, February 02, 2005

NyQuil Stupor

Headed for bed last night around 10 loaded up on NyQuil, book in hand, dog in tow. Had a cozy fleece blanket, my churgling humidifier, and a pleasant cough syrup buzz. Snuggled down into the bed, electric blanket on 5, Gus curled up at my side. It wasn't long before I drifted into a cough-free dreamland. A world where I had a voice and there were no children. A land of reading good books by the ocean while sipping a pina colada....
Hulrp...hurlp...hurlp...my peaceful dream by the seaside suddenly found me panicked. I leaped from my beach chair and my eyes searched the terrain...what was that noise? Hurlp...hurlp...it sounded dangerous! I dashed toward the mainlaid when...I fell. Hard. On my knees, wrapped in fleece, face planted directly on the humidifier. The beach scene had disappeared, my pina colada was gone, I was hopelessly tangled in a heap of blankets on the floor of my bedroom. I sighed and began to pick myself up. Being high on NyQuil and blind as a bat, I lacked some of the most basic motor skills. Hurlp...hurlp...hurlp...that noise! I blindly patted and groped toward the nightstand until I found my glasses, then turned on the lamp. Hurlp...hurlp...the sight and sound of a beagle about to vomit came into view. Quite loopy myself, I grabbed at Gus and tossed him off the bed. "Outside! Outside!" I croaked in my squeaky man-voice that I have finally partially regained. I untangled my feet and fumbled with the door. Turn. Knob. Turn. It. There was something wrong with my hand. There! We were out.
I hurriedly ushered Gus out the backdoor and stood shivering in the 37 degree air and watched him eat grass. He ate grass and more grass and he and ate and ate. Was he a goat? Did he think this was a leisurely spin in the yard? It was 1:00 am! I went into the den to sit down in the recliner. Just for a sec....I was relaxed and...out.
ARRRHOOOO! ARRRRHOOOO! I grabbed the arms of my chair and jolted awake to Gus' 1:13am howls, which I'm fairly certain made my neighbors even more fond of us, and I staggered to the door. Cold rush of air, enter Gus, and hello! We have vomit. A little pile of black vomit topped with grass right at my feet. Thanks, Gus. I stared at it, transfixed. I could not remember what we did in this situation. Hmmm. Gus wagged his tail happily against the tile and looked up at me adoringly. He strolled to his bowl and got himself a leisurely drink of water. Then he trotted back to my bed and nuzzled himself down under the blankets. And still I stared at the vomit. It is incredibly difficult to create coherent thoughts in the midst of a NyQuil stupor. I wondered why it was black. I thought of all the black things I could. Tar was black. We don't have any of that. My shoes were black. He can't eat a whole shoe. Can he? I wonder if maybe he could...Ash! Ash was definitely black. He had gotten into the volcanic ash from our fake logs in the fireplace. Again. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for my clever sleuthing. I grinned stupidly. What was I doing? Oh, right. Papertowels. I felt like I was fighting through a thick shield as I clambored around the kitchen.
I thought back to those suspicious crunching noises I heard earlier, as I managed to get the mess cleaned up. Beast of a dog. I fell heavily back into bed. I was immediately unconscious again. Gus managed to sleep through the rest of the night until my alarm went off. I took my shower and came back to the bedroom to find Gus eating the last of my used Kleenexes that I had carelessly tossed onto my nightstand the night before. He seemed to be grinning at me as he tossed his head around, chomping the last of my tissues for breakfast. I gazed at him scornfully, my eyes still half-closed, and tried to think good, positive thoughts about him. He's loyal. He's got a great personality. He's warm. He's cute to look at. He's a living vacuum.
I sighed and picked up the scraps of tissue he mistakenly left behind as he darted in and out between my hands, trying to get last tastes of his precious contraband. As I began my day, I wondered if NyQuil will ever manufacture a nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever, sleep through my beagle so I can have a good day medicine? I'd take that every night!

13 comments:

Eddie said...

Hello, DOG.

G-Man said...

First, I love the pic of your beagle! A close friend of mine has a beag and I love being with it. They are so loving...unconditionally. Someday, I know I will get one. Haven't had a dog since I was a kid. We've had 2 cats over the years, both of whom I loved, but dogs have that special ablility to make you feel loved and appreciated. Cats, though loving at times, really don't give a rat's ass about people.
I hope you aren't going to school with your illness as it is. Remember, the "gold" watch at the end of the career will be a Timex no matter how many times you dragged your ass in sick. True! Take care of yourself and give Gus a hug for me:)

Jen said...

Oh, I have woken to the horrible sounds of a beagle about to spew on the bed, that whole-body dry heaving sound. It's really a sad spectacle to see a dog puke. And what's worse is cleaning it up, especially at 1 a.m. And oh, the 1 a.m. bark session, been there. Yeah. Gotta love our little beagles.

Sorry to hear you're still feeling under the weather. This too shall pass.

posthipchick said...

my dog is obsessed with my kleenex. it's really disturbing.

averagejoe said...

NyQuil rules ok!

birdwoman said...

I'm naming my next dog Hoover for that very reason. But how do you stand having a dog in your bed? My husband is bad enough...

(*)>

Anonymous said...

Wow! What a story! ;)
But if you think about it? There are WORSE things that your dog can eat other than used tissue, trust me -- I been there!
Hope you feel better sooon..
Chana
www.bunnyburrow.com

Anonymous said...

Hm. I'm still workin' the Thera-Flu. Perhaps I will NyQuil tomorrow. It just tastes so bad!

-hipteacher

FunkyB said...

See Ginny, THIS is what I love most about your writing... you can take an event like that, put it in writing, and my first thought is, "Man, I wish I would have a night like that to write about."

Mad Hatter said...

in response to your response... i know! i was totally incredulous when i looked down and saw green and black marker scribbled on their arms. i took a deep breath and tried not to yell. it was so disturbing. and they totally didn't see the problem. i'm thinking, jesus. imagine if i had a pair of scissors lying around. (madhatter imagining tattered shirt and giggling 15 yr olds. then she imagines the kids in another class exclaiming, We did this in Madhatter's class!)

oiuhewgiuohng said...

ROFL! Thanks for the laugh! I wish they made that stuff for cats. ;)

katielady said...

Um, hello? Where was Mr. Husband for all of this? Whilst in the midst of a Nyquil stupor, your loving husband should have been tending to the dog's needs and taken care of the black vomit. Shame on him! I expected more from a good southern man.

Oh, and let me just say for the record, if I ever have a dog that is as high maintenance as yours is, I'm giving it to you, because I would just not be able to handle it. Like cousineddie said, it's a DOG! Dog's should not be this much trouble. Makes for interesting stories, yes, but on a day-to-day basis, me and the dog would have issues. And, me being the human and all, I would always win. You would have to take said dog off my hands out of pity, both for me and the dog!

Pigs said...

To defend Mike, he was away on business for The Firm. Otherwise, I don't deal with the dog at night.