Buckets of Drool

Coach is not a fan of the car. I recall a story that my parents told about driving from Florida to Los Angeles with me in the car when I was a wee child.  You can imagine how long that trip took.  Every morning, getting into the car and driving and driving and driving.  Then getting out of the car, only to get back into the car the next morning. For a little one, it was excruciating.

At some point, I decided that I had had enough of the car.  I think we had finally made it to Los Angeles,  and were in our apartment and were just going out to dinner, but I had reached my car boiling point.  As we rounded the corner and the convertible came into my sight, I started screaming and crying, perhaps I even threw myself onto the sidewalk.  Yes, I threw a fit! However, I do believe we ate somewhere within walking distance.

Now, I am being punished for such histrionics.  Coach is not fond of the car. He has a tendency to puke.  We think we have the puking solved by not feeding him breakfast until I get him to work.  That has worked quite well.  However, the poor boy is quite a drool machine. It just kills me to see him so drooly.  Mostly, he just hunkers up near the air-conditioning and I keep it blasted on high for him.

Photo of Coach in the car with three strings of drool dripping off his muzzle.

After an errand, as we round a corner and the car comes into sight, he has a tendency to throw himself down on the floor in a rather dramatic fashion(only without the screaming and crying and kicking, for which I am grateful!). At this point, I usually just pick him up and put him in the car.  If I have time, I will work on cajoling him closer to the car.  Sunday at Frenchy's, he did this in front of three passers-by.  They all stared at me like I was taking Coach to his doom.

"He doesn't like the car.  We're working on it." They all smiled (thankfully). Two of them walked away.  One stayed to watch the show as I tried to get Coach closer to the car.

"He really doesn't like the car?"

"Nope. But he will."

I looked down at my drooling, calm and quiet little man. "He will." I said softly and patted him on the head.  Then I blasted the air-conditioning.

I Feel a Little Nauseous

Last night, I drove with Coach, our Southeastern guide dog puppy, over the Courtney Campbell to the Panera on Westshore and Kennedy to attend a librarian's meeting. It was raining, so I drove a bit below the speed limit. Not much passing either. Still, this was the face that I got as we started out on our trip.

A sad faced Coach peering up from the wheel well of the passenger seat.

About a 1/4 mile before we got to Panera, Coach popped up and looked at me.  He seemed to be drooling.  Oh.  Drooling.  That's a bad sign.  Drooling usually foretells puking.  Sure enough, Coach turned and started to heave and then deposited half his dinner in the corner of my car.

"Oh Coach! Poor baby."  I grabbed his collar, because of course his first instinct upon losing his dinner is to get it back again by eating it. Mind you, this isn't his first time barfing.  He puked on Saturday during our ride to lunch with a former student, but at the time, we thought it was the speed bumps that made him sick.  Now, I'm not so sure.  This trip was straight highway.

I'm nearing the restaurant.  I plant Coach firmly to the front by the seat and as we are at a stop light, I take one of my nifty ziploc bags and reach all the way down and grab the vomit and, through my ziploc glove, maneuver it into the bag.  Mission accomplished and before the green light too! Woot.

Coach gives me the evil eye, sort of.  He's still feeling a bit woozy, but still kind a wants that vomit. I toss the puke bag onto the carpet in the back seat and pat him on the head.

 

Coach is sitting a little closer to the passenger door, but still seems a bit nauseous.

 He's not happy about cars in general.  In fact, we have been working on getting him into cars by feeding him in the car.  So, breakfast and dinner take place in the car, which generally make him happy to jump in.  Otherwise, he is hesitant and unwilling to get near the door.  Sometimes he doesn't even want to walk by the car. It's something we are working on.

We arrived and we tried for another busy busy.  He was on empty.  But he didn't poo after dinner, so I knew he was filled with poo.  I would have to be hyper-vigilant.

All the librarians are sitting around a table at Panera and Coach is sitting in the middle of them on the floor. Left to right: Alyssa, Ramsay, Cyndi, Susan, and Kathleen with Coach down front.

About midway through our meeting, a sleeping Coach pops up and starts to move around.  Hmmm.  Could this be poo-time?  I took him outside and sure enough, it was.  Yea!!!  Success.  We came back in and he went back to sleep.  He was so good during the whole meeting.  Everyone said they didn't even know he was there.  Afterwards, several of the librarians stayed to pet him when he didn't have his coat on.  He was very good.

He made it all the way home without an incident.  Who knew we would have such a delicate flower for a football coach?