
Atticus is a big dog . . . a huge dog actually.
He weighs almost 140 pounds -- about twice what a normal German shepherd weighs. But, his heart is twice as big too.
His size draws comments everywhere we go. And his personality wins folks over.
Always has.

Because of A's size and build, I am very aware of his risk for
bloat. Perhaps too acutely aware.
Last night, after a late dinner, Atticus started to display symptoms of bloat. He was whining, retching, licking, pacing.
I took him to the 24-hour emergency vet. We spent 2.5 hours and more than $500 there.

He's okay. Didn't bloat. Came home with meds for his upset stomach and gas. Yes, gas.
But, I witnessed such heartache in that waiting room in the middle of the night, last night.
I am so, SO fortunate, not to be among those aching folks I saw there.
The people with the sick cat who couldn't breath. The giant schnauzer's folks who brought his body in for cremation. The couple with the mutt who couldn't walk.

I've been there before, and I'll be there again.

But, that's what happens when you love a dog. . .
It hurts to lose them,
It hurts bad.
But living with them . . . well, it's worth it.