The DC Boese's: How Two Trips to the Emergency Vet Strengthened our Marriage

My husband and I are not very lovey dovey. Actually, we aren't lovey dovey at all. And that's okay because that's us and that works for us.

Let's see. Wild boy Oreo had been throwing up all day Friday before Labor Day. My husband was at work so I just followed Oreo around with a towel and spray bottle. It was a really productive day. Hubby came home and I immediately "gave" the dog to him so he could take care of him and I could get some work done.

No "Hello! Welcome home from work. I missed you. We are having ____ for dinner!". No kiss either.

He sat on the couch with Oreo and I got work done.

Saturday morning came, and Oreo was still very ill. I won't go into detail, but it was bad. I played the "pregnant" card and convinced my husband to take him to the vet without me. He left with Oreo-- no kiss, no "I love you!", just "I'll call you" and shut the door.

He called 86 thousand times from the vet while I cleaned up dog mess. It was an awesome morning.

Again, I noticed we were hanging up on each other, "Yeah, I know, OK", etc.

Saturday night my baby boy was still not better. No drinking water, nothing. He won't even look up at me. His eyes are telling me something's wrong.

My husband was nagging me to have Oreo drink water. How on earth do I force a dog to drink water?

I was nagging my husband to just help me clean up and pray for our baby boy.

We were both very snappy to each other.

Off to the emergency vet we went. Hubby drove and I cuddled Oreo in the back seat. We said maybe 3 words to each other.

The room was so cozy. No exam table, just comfy couches and a big rug.

Sitting in the room (above), we both sat on our phones (Me? Googling what the hell could be wrong with my dog. Him? Probably wasting data on our data plan on Facebook. I was so annoyed he wasn't "caring".

Five or six hundred dollars later, we think Oreo is back to his healthy self. Wrong.

10AM Sunday morning? Back to the emergency vet. Ugh. They recognize us.

Cocoa hung out with Fenway while we were gone.

Major thanks to our neighbors for taking care of Cocoa!

Sitting in the (cozy) room, they decide it's best for them to keep my baby for fluids and monitoring. I hand over my precious little doggie and sign a piece of paper saying we do not want a DNR.

I look up and my husband looks ill. His face is completely white and he said, "I just want my crazy dog back".

For legal reasons, we couldn't leave until they hooked Oreo up to an IV. For 10 minutes we were blessed with listening to Oreo cry.

My husband is not good in emergencies. He will be the first to admit it. I actually stress about what he'll do when I go into labor.

On our way out, after agreeing to pay another $1500, I grabbed my husband's hand and asked him if he was okay. We reminded each other that we are bigger than this. If, God forbid, something were to happy to our puppy, we would be okay.

We have our marriage (each other), we have a child on the way, and of course we have a little brown poodle at home waiting for us.

We realized that we have to put our marriage first. Hello-- our dogs won't be around forever. Our kid(s) are eventually going to grow up and have families of their own.

We are only going to have each other in 50 years.

After we came to that realization, we were so much better. I feel like Oreo got better because we were handling the situation better.

Moral of the story? Don't forget about your spouse. They will love you through it all!

PS: Here are some photos of the whole weekend fiasco..Enjoy!