Kennel Cough

Kiwi the Wonder dog has been ill for five days with kennel cough and is finally on the road to recovery. For the first few days, we followed her everywhere with towels to catch the foamy mucus that would spew forth from her mouth in impressive proportions. Old painting tarps were eventually laid out on her behalf, though somehow she'd manage to fill the interstices of adjacent tarps with her tracheo-juices. Over the past few days, she has created some pretty respectable Jackson Pollock knock-offs using nothing but mucus and canvas.

This whole business started Saturday, when a bizarre honking sound signaled Kiwi's entry into a room. She'd been vaccinated, sure, but she'd also been exposed to lots of dogs. Her cough as well as her condition got rapidly worse, and for two nights we stayed up with her holding her floppy black ears aloft enabling her to purge with dignity. I have never seen dear Kiwi look so listless.

Discovered on the streets of Loveland emaciated and scared, that little black dog of mixed descent has gotten under our skin. We love her not because she's empathic, like the kind of pup who'd nuzzle your face to squelch your sobs. She does not understand tears. Nor is she the mediator - like the dog who'd break up petty people quarrels with a whirling tail or toothy laugh. We love her because she's an enigma: sphinx-like, stoic, and haughty and yet more impossibly sweet than a three pound bag of m and m's.

Gotta go - the fur baby is honking.