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I am taking my dog to the vet tomorrow. Her stomach has been making gassy noises the past few days. She has eaten the same dog food for years. But the last two days been throwing up her dog food. Apart from taking her to the vet tomorrow morning any thoughts? I know she is an older dog but she still runs around and her personality isn’t different. Just the stomach noises and the throwing up. 

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1 minute ago, Deej said:

It could be one of many things. Just make sure she stays hydrated until you get her to the vet.

Thanks. I will. Giving her water. She’s still running around and doing normal things. I hope it will be ok. 16 years and she has never had any real medical issues. 🥺

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Conditions in senior dogs that may cause vomiting include:

Bacterial infection of the gastrointestinal tract

Diet-related causes (diet change, food intolerance, ingestion of garbage)

Foreign bodies (i.e., toys, bones, etc.) in the gastrointestinal tract

Intestinal parasites

Acute kidney disease/failure

Acute liver disease/failure

Gallbladder inflammation

Pancreatitis

Post-operative nausea

Ingestion of toxic substances

Viral infections

Certain medications or anesthetic agents

Bloat

Heatstroke

Car sickness

Infected uterus (in non-spayed females

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Posted (edited)
44 minutes ago, Nicole44 said:

I am taking my dog to the vet tomorrow. Her stomach has been making gassy noises the past few days. She has eaten the same dog food for years. But the last two days been throwing up her dog food. Apart from taking her to the vet tomorrow morning any thoughts? I know she is an older dog but she still runs around and her personality isn’t different. Just the stomach noises and the throwing up. 

Is she still interested in food? This happened to Rocket over the summer and it ended up being because he'd gotten a corncob from god knows where and basically swallowed it whole. Rocket is an expensive dog.

Edited by austingirl
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Posted (edited)

It could be anything, but usually in the case of my brats, it's because they've eaten grass or frogs or dead birds or bugs or any of the million other things that doxies find and eat when their owners aren't looking.  For me, I usually find out by being awakened at 3am to the sounds of one of them trying to puke in the bed.  If it's not the bed, it's another piece of furniture.  How it is that they know not to go potty on the furniture, but don't know better when it comes to puking is beyond me.  I hope you get things figured out and Bitty gets to feeling better.

Edited by Hairy Biped
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She is still eating and drinking and running around but making gassy noises. And then of course the throwing up the last few days. Maybe her food is bad? I am taking her first thing in the morning so hopefully it’s just a bug or a parasite thing and not organ/kidney/liver/pancreas stuff.

thanks everyone for the the thoughts and information. She’s never really been sick before. So this is new for me. But she is allowed to run around in the back yard all day and sleeps with me at night. But her behavior is the same except for the noises and puking. She was running around just fine ten minutes ago. Now she’s sitting still. Maybe I should change her food also? I just always gave it to her because she likes it. Hope the vet will have good news. 🤘🏼💕

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25 minutes ago, Hairy Biped said:

It could be anything, but usually in the case of my brats, it's because they've eaten grass or frogs or dead birds or bugs or any of the million other things that doxies find and eat when their owners aren't looking.  For me, I usually find out by being awakened at 3am to the sounds of one of them trying to puke in the bed.  If it's not the bed, it's another piece of furniture.  How it is that they know not to go potty on the furniture, but don't know better when it comes to puking is beyond me.  I hope you get things figured out and Bitty gets to feeling better.

Man, you speak the truth. Biff is half long haired dachshund and he wolfs anything down that is even remotely edible like it’s his last meal. 

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One of our twelve year old labs just ate her second sock in a month (despite showing no interest in socks for the entirety of her life), and then two days later, proceeds to systematically throw up two days worth of mostly undigested food. Fortunately, the sock came up with the last bit; so didn’t have to make an expensive vet trip of it.

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Posted (edited)

Bitty is back from the vet. No heart worms (though she shouldn’t have them), blood tests sound/good, x rays showed a substance undetermined (bone) in her intestines. Liver/kidney/pancreas tests all good. Just the weird crap in her intestines. She had an anti-nausea shot and got some new dog food. If she doesn’t vomit in 24 hours we should be ok! 
 

No idea what the substance is or what she got into. Her diet is regulated. Vet thought it was bone/ bone meal? That was expensive but worth it. 
 

Thanks again y’all for all the help! 💕🤘🏼

Edited by Nicole44
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This is a story from Defector. It's the website the old Deadspin staff started and Albert Burneko, one of the best writers they have, wrote about his best friend that passed away on Thursday. If you're okay with the allergies getting a little worked up it is worth reading. Such a sweet tribute that he wrote. Dogs are just so much better than human beings at being compassionate.

Spoiler
March 6, 2021 10:00 am
My dog Dot
I took this photo

When you have four dogs—a weird number of dogs—people naturally ask you which of them is the most this or the best at that. I’m not sure that Dot was the most of any particular thing. I would talk about the other three—Grover the big sweet lumbering doofus, the perpetually confused, who dunks his face in the bowl of water and takes bites of it, who sorta plunks his big paddle of a paw on you or pushes his forehead into your leg when he would like to request some closeness; Chop, the vibrating runt with the light-speed metabolism, the boundless enthusiasm for smooching, the strange total commitment to indoor silence, who will not bark until he has trotted all the way downstairs and out the dog door into the backyard first; Bea, Dot’s sister, the neurotic and noisy hyena of a mutt, all wiry paranoia and intensity, who fully reclines next to her dinner and daintily selects and chews and swallows one piece of kibble at a time and will not be rushed, who cannot ever be close enough to my wife that she will not want to get even closer—and then it is time to talk about Dot, Dottie, Dottie Do-Right, and all I could ever say is just, “She is just the best damn dog. She’s the best dog.”

My dogs Bea and DotCredit: I took this photo

Bea and Dot were born stray somewhere in the Carolinas, generations removed from anything anyone would recognize as any particular breed of dog; they stuck together through pounds and rescues until we found them, tiny, wormy, and glassy-eyed, living in someone’s kitchen with 11 other dogs. Dot—her name was Jackie, then—stretched her neck forward until we were nose-to-nose and stared into my eyes for long seconds, then turned her head and pressed her cheek into my surprised face, in what could only have been analogous to a hug. That was her move, a brilliant mutt’s key for unlocking people: staring into your eyes, with her big long pointy wet nose a centimeter from your face, and then pressing her cheek into your chest. We called it The Cheek.

My dog Dot, bloggingCredit: I took this photo

Dot did not ask for much. That may have been her defining trait. When people talk about the intelligence of dogs, I think mostly they are talking about dogs’ genius for figuring out how to fit in among humans, a whole different species from them—in my imagination, in some ancient time some of the wolves set themselves apart from the others via their curiosity about these weird smart hominids who were good at hunting food and could make fires, and that curiosity was an evolutionary advantage, because it meant easy access to abundant food and warmth and relative safety, two hard things to secure for wild animals; those wolves’ descendants were dogs, canis lupus familiaris, which after all are just wolves that have adapted to living in communities of humans rather than communities of wolves. Mutts are the ultimate expression of this: When there are not idiot people selectively breeding them for adorably squashed faces or foofy fur or a psychotic fixation on sprinting after small things, what aids a dog’s efforts at surviving and thriving and mating and having babies are things like adaptability, resourcefulness, a keen eye for figuring out how to fit in with and around the people. Anyway, by this standard Dot was the smartest dog I ever met, patiently and dutifully fitting into the background of the needier three and the bustle of a busy human family; and then, once in a while, weeks or months in between, The Cheek. To make sure everything was OK.

I have so much more I could write about Dottie. How she was the most conscientious and responsible dog I ever knew. How every waking minute of her life, right up to the last, you could witness her earnest effort at figuring out what the pack needed from her and quietly doing it. About the room she made for the klutzy, clueless purebred puppies, when they came along, about the patient “I guess this is just how things are now, huh” look she’d give me when they were crowding onto a small dog bed with her.

My dog dot, with two puppies on her dog bedCredit: I took this photo

About how she was the one my son always felt safe walking on the leash, because anything else might happen except for Dottie pulling or giving him trouble. About the time my mother-in-law fell and hurt herself on her way up the stairs, and Dot came and sat silently next to her. About the time there was a new baby over to visit, and the quiet and steady eye Dot kept on her all day. About how when Bea would get wound up with anxiety and climb over the fence, Dot would bark at her in alarm, and then dutifully follow her over, to make sure she didn’t get in trouble alone. About the weird ragged moaning howl she’d make as she raced the other dogs down the stairs to dash back and forth and flip out at deer, her one indulgence; about how annoying that could be when I was trying to work, and about what I’d give to hear it now. All of this hurts a bit to think about, today.

Dottie died on Thursday around lunchtime, in a little patch of cool grass with her family around and me feebly pressing my face into hers. She was a good and faithful dog who gave us everything she had, and I will miss her forever.

My dog DotCredit: I took this photo

 

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Okay, this might be a crazy question, but I've been struggling with it for a while.  I have 3 doxies (I posted pics on this thread a little while back), technically 2 are mine and 1 is my niece's, but he's been staying with me for the better part of the past 3 years while she is away at college.  Anyway, at the end of the day, once I'm settling in to relax in my recliner, watching TV and surfing the internet on my laptop, the dogs all love to climb into my lap and cuddle, play and eventually sleep.  I love it at first, but after a while having between 40 and 50 pounds of dogs sleeping on top of you gets old.  I usually let them have some lap time, then send them to sleep somewhere else.  They have a sofa, 2 comfy chairs, a dog bed and a large dog pillow that they can sleep on.  Problem is, they always and only want in my lap, and I feel guilty about wanting some "me time".  Am I out of order here?  Am I being selfish or harming them emotionally by sending them away?  What do y'all think?

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They all want your attention and are trying to establish a pecking order. I know someone that has a smaller chihuahua mix and he tries to always get on your lap and in your face because he is attempting to establish his dominance. I set him off to my side to gently let him know he is not in control. 
 

I would not feel guilty. Put them on the floor and let them know who is in charge. You do not have to have a stern voice with them. Just be consistent and set them down and leave them there. Praise them when they are doing what you want them to do. Be thankful the dogs want to be around you like that though. They inherently trust you which is something you can take joy in knowing. 

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16 hours ago, UpperWestside said:

This is a story from Defector. It's the website the old Deadspin staff started and Albert Burneko, one of the best writers they have, wrote about his best friend that passed away on Thursday. If you're okay with the allergies getting a little worked up it is worth reading. Such a sweet tribute that he wrote. Dogs are just so much better than human beings at being compassionate.

  Reveal hidden contents
March 6, 2021 10:00 am
My dog Dot
I took this photo

When you have four dogs—a weird number of dogs—people naturally ask you which of them is the most this or the best at that. I’m not sure that Dot was the most of any particular thing. I would talk about the other three—Grover the big sweet lumbering doofus, the perpetually confused, who dunks his face in the bowl of water and takes bites of it, who sorta plunks his big paddle of a paw on you or pushes his forehead into your leg when he would like to request some closeness; Chop, the vibrating runt with the light-speed metabolism, the boundless enthusiasm for smooching, the strange total commitment to indoor silence, who will not bark until he has trotted all the way downstairs and out the dog door into the backyard first; Bea, Dot’s sister, the neurotic and noisy hyena of a mutt, all wiry paranoia and intensity, who fully reclines next to her dinner and daintily selects and chews and swallows one piece of kibble at a time and will not be rushed, who cannot ever be close enough to my wife that she will not want to get even closer—and then it is time to talk about Dot, Dottie, Dottie Do-Right, and all I could ever say is just, “She is just the best damn dog. She’s the best dog.”

My dogs Bea and DotCredit: I took this photo

Bea and Dot were born stray somewhere in the Carolinas, generations removed from anything anyone would recognize as any particular breed of dog; they stuck together through pounds and rescues until we found them, tiny, wormy, and glassy-eyed, living in someone’s kitchen with 11 other dogs. Dot—her name was Jackie, then—stretched her neck forward until we were nose-to-nose and stared into my eyes for long seconds, then turned her head and pressed her cheek into my surprised face, in what could only have been analogous to a hug. That was her move, a brilliant mutt’s key for unlocking people: staring into your eyes, with her big long pointy wet nose a centimeter from your face, and then pressing her cheek into your chest. We called it The Cheek.

My dog Dot, bloggingCredit: I took this photo

Dot did not ask for much. That may have been her defining trait. When people talk about the intelligence of dogs, I think mostly they are talking about dogs’ genius for figuring out how to fit in among humans, a whole different species from them—in my imagination, in some ancient time some of the wolves set themselves apart from the others via their curiosity about these weird smart hominids who were good at hunting food and could make fires, and that curiosity was an evolutionary advantage, because it meant easy access to abundant food and warmth and relative safety, two hard things to secure for wild animals; those wolves’ descendants were dogs, canis lupus familiaris, which after all are just wolves that have adapted to living in communities of humans rather than communities of wolves. Mutts are the ultimate expression of this: When there are not idiot people selectively breeding them for adorably squashed faces or foofy fur or a psychotic fixation on sprinting after small things, what aids a dog’s efforts at surviving and thriving and mating and having babies are things like adaptability, resourcefulness, a keen eye for figuring out how to fit in with and around the people. Anyway, by this standard Dot was the smartest dog I ever met, patiently and dutifully fitting into the background of the needier three and the bustle of a busy human family; and then, once in a while, weeks or months in between, The Cheek. To make sure everything was OK.

I have so much more I could write about Dottie. How she was the most conscientious and responsible dog I ever knew. How every waking minute of her life, right up to the last, you could witness her earnest effort at figuring out what the pack needed from her and quietly doing it. About the room she made for the klutzy, clueless purebred puppies, when they came along, about the patient “I guess this is just how things are now, huh” look she’d give me when they were crowding onto a small dog bed with her.

My dog dot, with two puppies on her dog bedCredit: I took this photo

About how she was the one my son always felt safe walking on the leash, because anything else might happen except for Dottie pulling or giving him trouble. About the time my mother-in-law fell and hurt herself on her way up the stairs, and Dot came and sat silently next to her. About the time there was a new baby over to visit, and the quiet and steady eye Dot kept on her all day. About how when Bea would get wound up with anxiety and climb over the fence, Dot would bark at her in alarm, and then dutifully follow her over, to make sure she didn’t get in trouble alone. About the weird ragged moaning howl she’d make as she raced the other dogs down the stairs to dash back and forth and flip out at deer, her one indulgence; about how annoying that could be when I was trying to work, and about what I’d give to hear it now. All of this hurts a bit to think about, today.

Dottie died on Thursday around lunchtime, in a little patch of cool grass with her family around and me feebly pressing my face into hers. She was a good and faithful dog who gave us everything she had, and I will miss her forever.

My dog DotCredit: I took this photo

 

Nope. Not reading that. 

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On 3/4/2021 at 9:41 PM, Hairy Biped said:

It could be anything, but usually in the case of my brats, it's because they've eaten grass or frogs or dead birds or bugs or any of the million other things that doxies find and eat when their owners aren't looking.  For me, I usually find out by being awakened at 3am to the sounds of one of them trying to puke in the bed.  If it's not the bed, it's another piece of furniture.  How it is that they know not to go potty on the furniture, but don't know better when it comes to puking is beyond me.  I hope you get things figured out and Bitty gets to feeling better.

No idea if I could replicate this in another dog, but whenever puppy Kevin was horking I would grab him and put him in the bathroom, which apart from the kitchen was the one non carpeted floor surface in my shitty little apartment. At some point, he just started heading there himself. He always throws up in a bathroom or shits next to the door if he’s having some kind of stomach problems. He is a good boy.

 This guy is a shithead, haunting the stairway waiting for his post dinner bone

 

1EB4E777-AB02-4BF4-A3BC-E59E8844EEB1.jpeg

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On 3/9/2021 at 3:51 PM, Armybrat said:

RIP little granddog Shelby, age 14.... Son had her put to sleep this morning. 

 

C496DEFE-8D88-4784-BFDB-DF04B082CD6E.jpeg

Good dog Shelby.  You have a doppleganger in Callie that you should look up.  She was the wife and my first dog and gave us the best 18 years of her life.

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1 hour ago, Deej said:

Husky and what else?

Looks like my Blue.

 

20210101_102727.jpg

Oh my, she does!
We got her from an Aussie Rescue group.  She was a stray found in Paris.  Not sure what she's got in her.  She's got some feet to grow into though!
She's 12 weeks old and is already super smart though.

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4 minutes ago, BigDHornfan said:

Oh my, she does!
We got her from an Aussie Rescue group.  She was a stray found in Paris.  Not sure what she's got in her.  She's got some feet to grow into though!
She's 12 weeks old and is already super smart though.

Cute dog. 

Blue at that age. (She was small due to her liver shunt.)

 

20180808_192046.jpg

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10 hours ago, Deej said:

Cute dog. 

Blue at that age. (She was small due to her liver shunt.)

 

20180808_192046.jpg

Remarkable likeness on the coloring, right down to the two brown spots above the eyes.

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