Biggins is Bulimic... And it's time for an intervention

My 102 lb Yellow Lab can only be compared to the best vacuum money can buy. For analogy purposes I'll say a Dyson, which is the vacuum I would LOVE to have to clean up those chunks of dog hair that dance across our hardwoods on a daily basis. But that's a different story, I need to stay on track here.

Biggins has ingested all sorts of items, a whole chicken wing that was too hot and slippery in wing sauce for me to hold on to, he swallowed in the second it touched the floor. I take that back, I don't think it hit anything as it fell, but his mouth. Beer caps, horse shit (which he eats as fast as he can because he thinks all of the other dogs at the park are going to find out how delicious it is and want to dig in too), a Barbie doll arm, pens, earrings, the list goes on.

Seven times out of ten he is able to digest whatever he eats, I'm pretty sure he has a bullet proof belly. There was even one instance when he ate the pillow case off the decorative pillow I put in his crate. That did go through his digestive system and I found him pushing as if he was in labor to get it out, I had to aide in his relief and pull the pillow casing out, which seemed never ending, like the scarf trick every magician under the sun does. Well try and top this one David Copperfield! But there are also times when he just can't seem to get whatever it is he ate that day, or two days before down, and it conveniently comes up while we are dead asleep. It starts with the mouth sweats, he licks his chops for about 5 minutes. Then the gagging begins, which takes over his whole body in an exorcist-like fashion. The trick is to catch him as he throws up, because if you don't, chances are you'll never see the mess or know that it happened, Biggins is very tidy with his vomiting, in a disturbing kind of way, I won't go into details.

So last Saturday, Biggins had a routine visit to the vet. He very well behaved at the vet, I think it's his nerves. The doctor checks his joints, Biggins points his toes like a ballerina. The doctor looks at Biggins teeth and gums, Biggins burps in his face. The doctor says "smells like someone had breakfast" and I have to tell him "no he didn't, he just has frequent indigestion". The doctor says "We'll your dog has personality, that's for sure", I told him "I call it drama", he said "we'll he is a bit dramatic". I have no idea where he gets that from (wink wink). So we prance off to the car, overall a successful visit to the vet. On the ten minute ride home, Biggins decides to hop in the backseat of Caleb's new car and begin to gag. I immediately start screaming for him to hold on, like he's about to give birth and he should just cross his legs to buy us time. I'm on a busy route, nowhere to pull over but I manage to make it happen anyways and turn on my hazard lights. Biggins jumps out and instantly starts vomiting on the side of the road. And when he is puking, it's not wham bam thank you mamm, it's a process. He slithers like a snake and rolls around, attempting to work up and out whatever he can. This time he was puking simply because he was excited at the vet's office and had nothing in his stomach. The same thing happens if he has just had breakfast. Your damned if you do, you're damned if you don't! While on the side of the road waiting for my dog to stop with the bulimic episode (picture him shoving his paw down his throat), I can't help but thing this shouldn't happen with my dog, it should be my girlfriend puking on the side of the road after a long crazy night of shots and bubblegum vodka and I should be laughing my ass off at her. But instead I feel awful for my poor dramatic little Biggins (Oxymoron, I know). I flee the scene of the crime, I'm not digging through 3 feet of piss, vomit and shit, it's biodegradable.

Fast forward to Saturday night, we order garbage plates and Josh is buttering his bread. In one clean swoop, Biggins has the plastic single serve butter packet in his mouth, and as we reach to take it from him he take a big gulp, bye bye butter.

Now fast forward to 30 hours later, 3:30 a.m. Monday morning. Biggins starts licking his chops, mouth sweats in full force. He jumps off the bed, and instantaneously gags twice, opens his mouth and out comes the butter packet. If Biggins could speak at that very moment I think he would say "I'm gonna butta your bread".