God moves through emergency vet visits

It was 7 a.m., May 11: Ayda’s baptism day and I was ready to celebrate! I started running through my mental checklist: 

I need to wrap Ayda’s gift. I forgot to get a card. Does Trader Joe’s carry baptism cards? I doubt it; I’ll have to stop on the way. And Mother’s Day! I need to wrap Mom’s gift. I should leave by 2 p.m. to get to the church by 4 p.m. That means I need to start getting ready by 1 p.m. Now what will I wear? Hmmm ... 

I finished wrapping the gifts, adorned with curly gold ribbon and realized the scraps of wrapping paper had filled up my trash. 

I better take out the trash, and the compost and recycling too. 

I left for a bit and came back with the empty bins. I went into the bathroom to change my clothes and wash my face. I went back into the kitchen and glanced in the living room. 

Where’s Murphy? I thought as I peeked around the corner. What I saw stopped my heart. 

"Oh my gosh! Baby!" I said as I ran into the living room. Murphy had been vomiting by the sliding glass door and continued to dry heave as I approached him. Hanging from his mouth was a 2+ foot piece of string. 
 

I instinctively took the string and tugged slightly to feel if the end would come loose. No luck. It was stuck. Murphy continued to heave. I gave a few gentle, yet forceful pats on his upper back to see if that helped. It didn’t. I ran to my phone. 

I called my vet, who happens to be just a few blocks away. (Thank goodness.)

“Hi, I need help. This is Alissa Mattison and I think my dog is choking on some string from a rug. Can I bring him in?”

“Has your dog been here before?” she asked. “Yes, I said.” It’s Murphy. Murphy Maurice Mattison.” (I didn’t realize until later than I had given his full name.) “I can be there in 5 minutes.” “OK,” she replied. “We’ll see you soon.”

I returned to Murphy. He had managed to bite the string off, leaving a long piece on the floor. But there was still more inside. I grabbed him in one arm, my purse in another and hurried out the door. 

A few minutes later and we were at the vet. With tear-filled eyes, I answered the vet tech’s questions and told her what had happened. 

“I came home from work yesterday and found that Murphy had ripped up my entryway rug. He never does things like that. It’s weird that he was even back by the door; he usually just hangs out on the couch while I’m gone. Anyway, he must have heard a loud noise, gotten anxious and then waited by the door for me to get home. He seemed fine last night. I didn’t realize he had eaten so much of it.” 

Fast forward a few hours and Murphy had his X-rays back. As the vet went through them, she pointed to the areas where string remained. “We’re hoping it’ll all work itself out but if it continues to bunch in his intestines, he may need an exploratory procedure.” “So surgery,” I said. “Yeah,” she replied, her head tilting in empathy. “That string is sharp (like floss). It can cut the intestines.” 

Fighting back tears I asked what I should do next. I needed to be at baptism by 4 p.m. in Mankato. “He needs to be watched. If you absolutely can’t be with him, you can bring him to the U of MN 24-hour pet care to be under observation. I can set everything up for you so they know you’re coming.” “Thank you!” I gushed, still fighting back tears. 

I paid my bill and wasn’t a block away when Murphy had to stop. I’ll spare you the details but another 4+ feet of string emerged. I panicked, trying to balance Murphy and his string (still attached) in one arm, and my purse and the vet bag in another. 

I managed to get the front door of the vet’s office open and slipped inside, pleading “I need help.” The vet and two techs rushed over to me, grabbed Murphy and took him to the back room. 

I broke. The receptionist came over with a box of tissues. “I’m so sorry I’m such a mess,” I whimpered. “It’s totally OK,” she said. “It’s scary.” 

I couldn’t leave him like this, let alone in a dark kennel under observation. He didn’t need that extra anxiety and I sure wasn’t in a state to drive 2 hours to baptism and stand in front of a church. My heart sank but I couldn’t go. I called my parents (who were getting frequent updates on Murphy’s status). “How is he?” my mom asked in a weak voice. I could tell she had been crying. I gave them the update and asked what I should do. “Should I stay? I feel horrible. I need to be there for Ayda.” “Alissa, you need to take care of Murphy. It’s not even safe for you to drive alone tonight. Everyone understands. Your family loves you and Murphy — and we know how much you love Murphy!” 

After a lot of tears and back-and-forth, I decided to stay. My heart was torn and restless but I knew it was the right thing to do. I called my vet to let her know I planned to stay back with Murphy. She said, “Alissa, that’s perfect. He needs the 1:1 attention. That’s the best thing for him right now.” 

My heart was a bit calmer but sill, darkness remained about missing baptism. I was one of Ayda's sponsors, afterall. Not 30 minutes later, my mom sent me a text: 

We just finished talking to Ryan & Elizabeth. They felt so bad for you and Murphy and totally understand. They said they will miss having you with us but completely know that you need to be there for Murphy!!! You are doing the right thing!!! We love you more than you know.  We are praying and will continue to pray for you and Murphy. [praying emoji] Please keep us updated! Love you [heart emoji]

Peace. My mom blanketed my heart with peace. It’s beautiful how a mom can do that. Mine does all the time. 

So, Murphy and I are on homebound status for a few days. Our homework: wet food, liquids and walking. Lots of prayer too, of course. 

If you know anything about me, you’re expecting that I’ll wrap this up with a lesson learned from the experience. You’re right. (#growthminded) As I was reflecting on the day last night during my evening prayer time, I was thinking of the timing. It happened when I was home and when the vet's office was open. Had it happened while I was at work or on a Sunday, things could have gone much differently. 

I also realize how many people took care of Murphy and me yesterday: the receptionist who brought me tissues, the vet who cared for Murphy’s health and my emotions, my mom and dad for supporting me over the phone, the rest of my family for supporting my decision and reaching out to me for updates via texts and phone calls, my manager for readily approving a work-from-home day tomorrow ... the list goes on and on. 

Yesterday could have been an incredibly lonely day but you know what? I was surrounded by love and support. That’s life. That’s the power of relationships. That’s nourishment. That’s God.

And on this Mother’s Day, who was the first to text me this morning (even before I woke up)? You guessed it. Mom. Here’s her text: 

Good morning sweetie! I woke up with you on my mind. How is Murphy and how did your night go? Praying Murphy is doing well. [prayer emoji] 

To all those who nourished me yesterday and to all those who nourish others every day, Happy Mother’s Day! Praise God for the gift of moms (especially mine)! 

Because God moves through emergency vet visits, anxieties and the peace only a mother can provide. Amen! 

Mother's Day 2019 

The first string (2+ feet)