How a Stomach Problem Tormented my Puppy, and the Vet Refused to See Him

Diary of Kuzo: The Vet

Note: He’s fine, this story is from a few years ago and it turned out alright. I don’t write stories where the puppy dies.

Kuzo wasn’t having a good night.

I first noticed at eight o’clock.

Kuzo rang his bell that meant he needed to go out.

“What’s the matter Kuzo?” I asked.

He just looked up at me with his big, yellow eyes.

I trotted to the door. Opened it, and stood there watching as Kuzo ran outside.

It was cold and windy. I was in my pajamas. I wanted Kuzo to hurry up.

“Come on Kuzo.”

Kuzo looked back at me with a sorrowful expression. He got into position, he was ready to do his business.

But nothing happened.

He took a few awkward steps forward.

He looked over at me again.

Still nothing.

Finally, he gave up and came back into the house.

I gave him a little pat on the head. “That’s okay Kuzo. You can try again later.”

I went to sit on the couch and Kuzo climbed up to sit beside me.

He sat there for a while, occasionally looking at me.

After about twenty minutes, he got up and went to ring the door again.

“Okay Kuzo, let’s try again,” I said.

I took him outside.

Kuzo did his best, but he had the same results as before.

“What’s the matter boy?” I asked. “Can’t you go?”

He looked at me sadly as if to say, “No.”

I started to get worried.

Kuzo has a bad habit of eating anything and everything he can get his mouth on. When my wife comes home from work, Kuzo always trots over to her satchel and extracts her plastic water bottle.

It’s part of his daily routine.

With extreme gentleness, he bites the bottle and pulls it slowly from the bag. Then he curls up and crunches on the bottle. He makes so much noise it sounds like he’s practicing a drum solo for Led Zeppelin.

Usually, he waits to do this until my wife and I arrive at the most dramatic part of whatever movie we’re watching.

Crunch, crunch.

“Come on Kuzo!”

But now I wondered if one of those little bits of plastic had gotten caught in his intestines.

Poor little guy!

Would they have to perform surgery?

I went to the internet to see when the veterinary offices opened up.

“We’re out of luck until eight in the morning buddy,” I said.

Kuzo looked at me.

He wagged his tail.

It was like he was saying, “Daddy, I don’t feel so good.”

“It’ll be okay buddy, I’ll make sure they take good care of you.”

I grabbed the blanket from next to the sofa and tried to get comfortable.

“What’s going on?” my wife asked. She’d come down to give Kuzo a pat on the head.

“He can’t go to the bathroom.”

“What!”

“I keep taking him outside and nothing. He just squats there looking at me.”

“Oh, poor little boy,” my wife said. She gave Kuzo a hug.

He didn’t look so good.

Maybe it was my imagination?

No, that was wishful thinking. He definitely didn’t look good.

I curled up on the sofa and pulled the blanket up to my neck. I closed my eyes.

I’d just fallen asleep when I heard the bell ring in the kitchen. Kuzo was asking to go outside again.

I got out of bed, went over, opened the door, and watched as he gingerly stepped out into the snow, squatted, and once again failed to produce anything.

He looked at me.

He came back into the house.

I felt so helpless.

I knew what this sensation feels like.

You know something is wrong with you and you’re scared.

“It’ll be okay boy, I’ll take you into the vet the moment it opens,” I assured him.

Kuzo tried to sleep.

I drifted off again, only to wake up to the sound of the bell ringing.

The whole night passed like that.

Kuzo never seemed to get any better.

*

I woke up exhausted.

I’d slept on the couch, but it seemed like every time I’d close my eyes, Kuzo was off ringing the bell again.

I was sleep deprived and not feeling well.

“Okay Kuzo,” I said. “The clinics are open, let's go.”

Kuzo wagged his tail weakly and then winced. My heart broke.

I put on his leash and led him outside. I was talking to him the whole time.

“It’s no big deal Kuzo, we’re going to take you to the doctor. You probably just ate something bad. They’ll fix you right up. You’ll see.”

He kept looking at me with his big, soulful eyes.

He kept trying to wag his tail.

He kept wincing.

I buckled him in, started up the car and did my best to stay under the speed limit as I headed off to the veterinary clinic.

I got there a few minutes before eight, but I checked the door and saw that the receptionists were already taking customers. I went inside.

“Hello,” the first one said. “What can we do for you?”

“This is Kuzo, he doesn’t seem to be able to poop,” I said.

Kuzo looked from the receptionist back to me and then at the receptionist again.

Again he tried to wag his tail

Again he winced.

The receptionist said, “Alright, let me check the computer.” She typed away for a few seconds and then looked up at me in confusion. “You don’t have an appointment until next week.”

Now it was my turn to be confused. “Yeah, that’s a checkup. I brought him in now because he can’t poop.”

The receptionist looked at her screen again. “Hmm,” she said. “We don’t have anything today, I could get you in on Friday.”

I was stunned.

I’d expected that maybe they’d yell at me.

I thought they’d say, “What did you let him eat?” or “You’re supposed to be more mindful of what he gets into!”

I had been ready for that.

I was braced for that.

But I hadn’t anticipated that they would refuse to see him!

I thought about that quarterback who went to jail for running a dog fighting kennel. I thought our country took abuse against animals seriously.

Wasn’t this abuse?

The poor little guy couldn’t poop!

How long can an animal live when it can’t poop?

Couldn’t they do something to help him?

Finally, I found my voice.

“Can’t you do something to help him? Can’t you just look him over real quick so I know he isn’t dying?” my voice cracked a little bit when I said that.

The receptionist’s face softened. “We aren’t an urgent care clinic, but there is one over in the nearby city.”

“Urgent care...” I said, not fully understanding.

“Yes, they take walk-ins, you can go down there. Should I get you the address?”

I nodded.

She scribbled down the address on a piece of paper.

“I’ve made a note here too, if something opens up, we’ll call you.”

“Thanks,” I muttered as I headed out the door. “Come on Kuzo, we have to go to the urgent care clinic.”

Kuzo followed along behind me.

Next to the door, he stopped and tried to squat again, but he still didn’t produce anything.

He kept looking at me as if to say, “Now what?”

“I know buddy, I know, we’re going to get you fixed up, don’t worry.”

I lifted Kuzo back into the car. He whimpered a little as I put my arms around him.

I buckled him in, typed the direction into my GPS, and hit the road.

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