“She’s fine. Just go to bed.” These are the words that my spouse uttered as he settled in bed after falling asleep in another room while watching television. He wasn’t privy to the last 45 minutes of Presley, our eldest Basset hound, who kept gagging and throwing up nothing. So, I listened to him – just this one time – as she settled on our bed. This is why I lean on the side of caution when Brian’s words trickle out of his mouth. Sometimes he doesn’t have a clue what he is saying.
I turn off the light and get comfortable while stroking Presley as she trembles Not five minutes later, she pukes on the bed. Fortunately, it was on my spouse’s side. Serves him right for spouting nonsense. I fling the covers off, clean the majority off of the blanket, all while my delightful husband, unmoved by the situation, eagerly awaits me turning off the light again. I cannot confirm or deny murderous thoughts running through my head. In all fairness, the man doesn’t do vomit. In fact, his eyes were closed while I ran around the room like a crazy person. I suppose he was concentrating on not puking too.
When I was pregnant and dealing with morning sickness, he ran the other direction. Kids hurling, Brian disappeared. Dogs, cats, the squirrels outside vomiting – okay maybe not the squirrels – he starts to gag. Not sympathetic gagging, but the “I might throw up too gagging”. There is a part of me that wonders if it is all an act. That maybe he simply stages this dramatic reaction in an effort to not participate in cleaning up the mess.
This morning Presley acts completely fine. No explanation for why she tossed chunks of dog food on Brian’s side of the bed. Maybe she was just as annoyed with Brian as I was. In the future, it would be great if she could clean up her own mess.