Last night we tried a modified cry-it-out scenario that went badly. We let Peanuty Goodness cry for no more than 10 minutes at a streetch and one of us would go in his room to soothe him. If I went in to soothe him he would cry a little harder and get upset that I wasn't picking him up. If The Big O went in, his cries went into octaves that dogs can't hear and he pitched a bigger fit than ever. (I guess the mommy wins that popularity contest.)
It was my turn to go in and I thought I'd rub his tummy and face, tell him I love him and leave again. But, nooooooo. From the second I walked in his room, something was different. Maybe it was the smell.
When I touched him, my first thought was that I put my hand in egg whites but that couldn't be right. No, it wasn't spit up either. Spit up is small, mostly in a contained area and mildly annoying. This was throw up. It went from his head to his knees, front and back. It was out his nose and up the back of his head in his hair. It covered a foot radius around his little body.
I'll collect my award later after his first therapy session for abandonment issues, thankyouverymuch.
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