I get schizophrenic some times, my own fault.

Some days it seems that people are either assaulting me or consoling me.  Emotion unnerves people, it seems to me that it is just a part of life.

The truth is, I don’t really think i need being told what to do, or comforted by people for being criticized by nasty people. I am not traumatized and going to pieces over Gus, nor do the many messages of unwanted advice or criticism bother me much.

I’ve been writing online for decades, I’m a big boy and have a hide now that could withstand the bite of a Tyrannosaurus. The reason I like to write about this is that I have always been fascinated by the social and cultural implications of this new technology – I was present at the birth, and writing about it then –  it is a fascinating thing for me to write about as I watch it evolve, and live it.

And Gus, of course, is a good story, up or down, that was never lost on me for a minute.

If I took things that personally, I would be long dead. Please, sit back and let me take care of myself, I have gotten better at it. Whatever finally brings me down, it will not be online messaging.

The presence of large quantities of vomit and slime have altered many things about my dog philosophy. At the supermarket yesterday, I bought $30 worth of bleach, odor remover and disinfectant spray. I will need more in a few weeks, a bottle used to last a year.

Red has never vomited, Fate very rarely. And they almost always try to get outside. Megaesophagus regurgitation is spontaneous and instant, it comes flying out of Gus’s mouth like a bullet out of a gun.

Because eating textured food – wood bits, kibble, sheep or rabbit pellets – causes Gus to spit things up, we usually muzzle him when he goes outside, or we stay with him until he does his stuff. Today it’s a gorgeous day, and I was remembering pre-winter how much fun Gus and Fate have running around in the backyard.

This kind of play doesn’t really work with a muzzle, Gus can’t play tug of war, grab a ball, or steal a toy, his favorite things. I had this thought. Am I really comfortable with Gus never going outside on a beautiful day to sit in the sun or play without a muzzle.

Am I willing to accept a certain measure of vomiting once in a while, or even on every beautiful day?

Can Gus still be a dog sometimes, and not always a megaesophagus dog? How much vomit can I tolerate? Should he live the life of a Bubble Dog because he’s sick? I think I already tolerate more vomit than I ever did, you get used to it, like having a baby who isn’t toilet trained. Maria handles with matter-of-factly, it’s just life with Gus. Unless he gets one of her favorite blouses or sweaters.

Today I took the plunge. I wanted Gus to enjoy this fine Spring day too. I let him out in the back yard with Fate for a half an hour, and then brought them both in. Ten minutes later, he spit up at my feet, on the rug and a part of the ottoman.

I got up, grabbed a Chlorox spray, some paper towels. I wiped up the slime and various debris from the yard, sprayed the rug and ottoman, got some disinfectant and odor remover.  It took a minute, if that. The nasty smell was gone in a flash, the mess was in the trash, there was no  trace of the regurgitation.

I felt good about it. Once in a while, Gus can get to be a dog. It’s not the end of the world. In the Spring, I think we’ll get the rugs cleaned.