I just left a status update on facebook about my horrific experience giving CPR to my scrappy little yorkie runt. I am sure that my family is tired of hearing me talk about it; but there is something about a really traumatic event that makes you feel the need to tell it over and over. Why? no idea. I mean, wouldn't it be better to forget the bad stuff... instead of reliving it? whatever.
So, for everyone ELSE... Last Friday, I sent the baby (aka. schatzi, shoo schoo, shoop de do, scoobydoo, precious baby girl, momma's baby, super dog - you get the idea) to the groomer for her spring hair cut. That in itself was a little traumatic since there was snow on the ground. Bethany went to drop her off on her way to school only to discover that there was some sort of appointment snaffu in which I entered the wrong date into my planner, or they did... depends on whom you ask. In any case, they grudgingly received yet another dog to groom for the day, which is not exactly how a dog owner wants this process to go. Especially the ones who are a little nuts about their yorkie babies.
Fast forward to that evening, where I had much shopping to do after work and did not get home until pretty much bed time. Enter guilt. My precious baby had not seen me all day and therefore I felt compelled to let her sleep at my feet... stupid mommy. Itty babies who wuv their mommies never STAY at your feet. They wait until you are sleeping and then sneak (no exaggeration here) up to your side and snuggle in.
Unfortunately, Daddy was there too. Schatzi decided to throw caution to the wind and wedge herself between us. Fortunately, I am a very light sleeper and when Dad decided to flip over sometime around 2:30 am it woke me up and I (instantly taking in these circumstances) deflected the inevitable smashing. Sometime soon after I reached down and Schatzi felt a little off. I really have no other explanation than that. I just knew something wasn't right.
I picked her up to find her not breathing. In complete panic, I threw on the light and started trying to rouse her with no luck. I was talking to her and petting her vigorously without a change. Her eyes were open, but not awake. I pried her mouth open and swept the back of her throat with my finger in case she had choked. nothing. I actually shoved my finger down her throat with no reaction whatsoever. At this point I wrapped my hand around her snout and puffed a breath into her lungs. over and over again. After about 4 or 5 puffs, she finally began to come around.
I held her and talked to her for a while and eventually took her to the living room to hold her for the rest of the night. Thankfully (and I DO mean thankfully) she recovered with no apparent problems. My vet friend says that I was very lucky. Moments later would have been too late. I will never make the mistake of letting her sleep with us again.
She may never sleep with mom and dad again, but life is looking pretty good for this little bit of sunshine. Her mommy has decreed that she can have anything and she can do anything she wants to do from now on.
Truly is trying to convince me that she was faking it.