T'was the Night before New Year

I'm not sure exactly why I've been thinking about this so much recently, but thinking about it I have. been. Is there an English teacher in the house??

Last year, on December 31st; I had to work late and got home at around 9pm. Alise was at home, and even though it was New Years Eve we had already decided that it was too cold out, that we were too tired, and too old to go partying to celebrate the retirement of our 2008 calenders. We settled in with a cup of tea and were watching television, deciding that we'd probably just go to bed before midnight.

At around 10:30pm, Coco the chocolate lab started to whine. The kind of 'I really would like to go outside kind of NOW', whine. I let her out.

When she was back inside I noticed that her stomach seemed HUGE. She was also dry heaving a bit, seemed like she needed to puke.

I, as usual, had no idea what the right thing to do was.

'I'll just take her for a walk', I told Alise. 'Let her get whatever it is coughed up. She'll be fine'.
'Maybe we should call the emergency vet', Alise said.
'She'll be fine' I said, with authority.
'Call the vet' Alise told me.

I did as all men should do when told to do something with a tone as employed by my dearest. I called the vet.

It turns out that Coco was suffering from a terrible condition called 'bloat'. This is when the stomach basically fills with gas and twists, cutting off circulation and will lead, if not immediately treated with surgery, to a painful and fairly speedy demise. The vet advised that we get her into their vet hospital at once.

Alise was throughout all of this calm, considerate, generous and amazing. I won't detail on a public blog exactly the lengths that she went to, but needless to say she saved Coco's life a couple of times over, and I am forever grateful to her. I've often told her in private but also want to put on public record my gratitude to her, and to let her know that the compassion and love for that damn, dumb, docile and bloody awesome dog that she showed that night will forever remain in my heart.

Alise, you'll be an amazing mother. You'll always know what's best, and you'll always tell me sternly, and quite correctly, to call the doctor when it's necessary.