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Back From The Dead
Moth battles for her life
It is well-known but often forgotten. This week I was reminded in a manner that was wrenching. We sometimes forget how quickly the balance between life and death can suddenly tilt. The move from apparent full health to knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door can be horribly swift.
This week we nearly said goodbye to our 3-year-old Rottie, Moth — whose exploits have often been chronicled here.
All day Sunday she was her normal self. Then in the early hours of Monday morning, I was woken by the sound of her vomiting. Regurgitated mounds of vegetables and minced beef splattered all over the floor. I had to quickly pull my other dog, Milo, away as Moth tends to guard her vomit. I managed to coax Moth downstairs and Laura and I tackled the clean-up. The smell was worse than usual. I’ve had dogs all my life and I am accustomed to their occasional throwing up. But the smell of this lot was on a different scale. It was nasty.
By the time we had finished cleaning and lighting joss sticks it was around 4.30. Dogs and humans fully awake our day started early. And throughout this Moth continued to be sick, huge rivers of it, voiding her guts, though with several hours between bouts.
Moth has always been an indiscriminate eater. And that’s putting it mildly. She will grab at…
