Belle's Musing - I Hate Coffee!
Belleís Musing Ė I Hate Coffee!
By Belle Touchton - The Missionary Dog
Mommy - Cheryle M. Touchton
The Pocket Full of Quarters Lady
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Ps 23:4 KJV
It is not fair. I didnít drink or eat any coffee. Why did I have to get so sick? Mommy says it probably absorbed into my skin when it flew all over the camper. Judging by the awful taste in my mouth, I also probably licked it. Why does Daddy like that horrible stuff so much?
I knew I was in trouble late Saturday night but didnít want to wake Mommy. Surely, it would pass. Sunday was awful. I got sicker and sicker as the day wore on. Mommy was nice about cleaning up after me but it couldnít have been much fun. Halleluiah is small when someone is sick. It didnít help that that coffee stuff was still falling from everywhere.
About 6:00 Sunday night, Mommy was on the phone with Daddy trying to figure out what to do about me. I heard her say, ďI wonder if it is the coffee?Ē
I wanted to say, ďDuhhhhh. Itís about time you figured it out.Ē
Mommy and Daddy starting searching on the internet and then I heard Mommy exclaim, ďCoffee is toxic to dogs. Belle's symptoms match exactly. It is the coffee. This site says it can be fatal unless aggressive measures are taken. Itís Sunday. What am I going to do?Ē
That didnít sound good. I knew Mommy would handle it but I must confess to fear. Daddy started looking for a doggie hospital open on weekends and finally called Mommy back with a phone number. Mommyís nervousness didn't help my nerves but mostly I was too sick to care.
Things started happening fast when Mommy called the doggie hospital. They agreed it was urgent and said to come see them immediately. Iíve never seen Mommy unhook Halleluiah so fast. She didnít even change her clothes, which was strange since the ones she had on were usually only for walking around the campsite. She doesnít like wearing shorts that short in public and her blouse was actually stained. Now I was really getting nervous.
When we arrived, they poked, prodded, and listened to my heart. Apparently, I was dehydrated, my red blood count was up, and I needed medicine and fluids. There were some other problems, but you donít really want to hear about them. They broke the news that I would spend the night in the hospital. Mommy had to go home. One look at her told me she was as miserable as me. She hugged me tightly before she left.
The doctor and nurses were nice. They kept saying how cute I was. Ok, I admit it Ė I work at being cute. Itís my thing. Apparently being cute gets you no points when it comes to needles because they stuck me anyway. They did make me a nice soft bed and came in to talk to me several times. Mommy never talks to me during the night so that wasnít too bad. They told me every time Mommy called for updates. It didnít sound like she was getting much sleep either.
As I lay there, in that strange place, I started thinking about what Mommy says about God. I was sick and scared but I decided to trust Mommy, the doctor and nurses, and God. Mommy says God is always with us so even though I didnít have Mommy, I had God. I pretended I was snuggling in Godís lap and that He was rocking me to sleep. Eventually the medicine started working and I could tell I was going to get well. Mommy was going to be happy.
The next morning, they let me go home. I donít know who was more excited ĖMommy or me. I was impressed that Mommy got Halleluiah packed up and was there by 8:30 AM. She didnít even have me to help. I wondered why it usually took so much time.
I said goodbye to the nice doctor and nurse, (see pictures Ė Idaho Ė Meridian Ė West Vet Animal Hospital) and happily jumped into Halleluiah. I felt much better. I had to take medicine for 10 days but Mommy puts it inside turkey so I donít really mind. The worse part of everything was that they shaved the middle of my front right leg. From the right side, I look like one of those prissy French Poodles. It is embarrassing. As we drove off, more coffee fell from the sky. This time, I stayed out of the way. Mommy is still cleaning up coffee every day. I don't help.
Cheryle M. Touchton is the Director of Pocket Full of Change Ministries. For more information or to schedule a speaker for an event, go to www.pocketfullofchange.org or call Gail Golden at 904 316-5462.
This ministry exists because people like you are called to help fund the work of the kingdom. To help keep the Pocket Full of Quarters Lady on the road as a traveling missionary, send your tax deductible contribution to Pocket Full of Change Ministries, POB 51205, Jacksonville Beach, Florida 32240.
© Pocket Full of Change Ministries