While the blog is partially named after him, I realized I haven't really done a post on my sweet Henry. (Slightly self-centered mom over here.) If you follow along on social media, you may have seen my posts over the past five days about what happened to Henry but I thought I would share more detail here and go into a bit reflection on how much I love my baby boy.
After church on Wednesday night, I stopped by Vestique in Charlotte where Caitlin was hosting a Girls Night Out shopping event. I purchased my first romper and was feeling pretty excitable as it was my Birthday Eve. When I came home, I instantly felt horrible. Henry was sitting by the door waiting for me and had gotten sick in several spots around the apartment. He held his head down low while I spent about an hour scrubbing the carpets around the apartment and I couldn't tell if he was still sick or just felt bad for messing the carpets and could sense that I was stressed out.
I checked him routinely that night but he seemed to be fine and we went to bed and did our routine like normal. He woke up multiple times throughout the night continuing to get sick. Luckily, I've trained him to go to the bathroom when I home for easier clean up. We sat on the bathroom floor for hours while I frantically looked up reasons for dogs vomiting on my iPhone. I came to the conclusion that it was just a bug (he had these before) and everything I read online said don't feed them for 24 hours to wait for it to get out of their system. So I decided this sounded like a solid plan.
The next morning we woke up and it also happened to be my 26th Birthday. I had sent my parents messages all throughout the night so I was waiting for them to wake up and get back to me. Meanwhile, I got ready for work and what I thought I would be an overly celebrated birthday. My Dad called and suggested I try to feed him and just go in a bit late to work to make sure that he could hold it down before leaving for the day and reminded me how serious it is when a large dog like Hens doesn't eat, then you know they are really sick. So, I go and get one of my bowls out of the cabinet and pour Henry a small portion of food. Nothing. Then, I try to feed him a pebble myself and he spit it out.
Panic followed. I started sobbing uncontrollably thinking he was going to die (I over-react at times) and called work to let them know we were going to the vet. I called the vet, which didn't open till 9, and they said they could see us at 11. Well, that wasn't going to work for me, so Henry and I loaded up in the car while we drove past what felt like every school zone in Charlotte with him lying quietly while I sobbed uncontrollably.
We get to the vet where we have to wait patiently until a room can be made available after 9. Henry starts to loosen up a bit and plays with his leash and barks at every passer byer and I'm thinking, "great, he's perfectly fine and here you have gone and overreacted again." Once we are in the room, they decide to do some blood work just to be sure. We wait patiently in the room and play for 30 minutes until the doctor came back. All I remember her saying is "liver failure." I started sobbing uncontrollably and wrapped myself around Henry on the floor in the vet. She mentioned something about going to get my options and I call my Dad in hysterics (Dad is always the one for emergencies.)
At this time, I have no idea what caused the liver failure and am convinced that this is the last day we will spend together and what will be my worst birthday of all time. She comes back in and explains in more detail that he had apparently gotten into something toxic on Monday or Tuesday of that week which is what caused him to be sick. The liver enzymes in his blood work was off the charts. The plan was to hospitalize him for that day so that he could be on an IV, liver medicine, and an antibiotic. She didn't make any promises but explained how we caught it very early and the liver is able to regenerate itself so that is what we will need to try to do and monitor closely over the next month.
I returned that night to pick him up and realized that may have renamed him Marley. He ripped out two IVs over the course of the day and caused a bit of a ruckus in the hospital but was doing well and that was all that mattered to me. He's home now with an extensive treatment plan that includes horrible smelling food formulated for liver regeneration, two antibiotics, and a liver supplement all of which he will be on for the next 30 days. My parents came up on Friday and we had to return the vet on Saturday for more blood work which showed improvements in his enzyme levels.
While he is still not 100%, he is on his way to improvement and that is all that matters. For that brief moment in time on Thursday, my life flashed before my eyes.
If you know me, you know Henry is my life. He is my puppy, my constant companion, my best friend, my child, my everything. We've lived in over five houses together across three states. He's the reason I can't wait to return home from vacation. We've been kicked out of patio seating due to someone's unruly behavior. He makes me rub above his eyes every night until he falls asleep. I cry almost everyday when I leave the house because I can't bear to leave him home. He's mastered the art of posing perfectly in every #ootd Instagram. I plan my weekend around him and how we can do more together. I skip out on dates because he's the best date there ever was. A large portion of my heart belongs to this little boy who is beyond charming in so many ways and can only be described as a lovable goofball.
Although, I know he will be OK, good luck getting me to do anything without him ever again. He is truly my everything and I am so thankful that I was a slightly over-reactive and rushed him to the hospital on Thursday morning. He keeps moving his head closer and closer to the keyboard which is his way of saying, stop typing. While this may not be a Shakespearian Sonnet, this is my love letter to my Henry and all of the pets we cherish so much.
Danielle and Henry