We enjoy, in fact treasure their company, our two little sibling dogs, brother and sister. They entertain us and they have the capacity to enrich our lives in their care and companionship. There are times when they astonish us with their ability to understand unspoken directions by assessing the physical signs they find in our actions, but their word recognition leaves little to be desired on the other hand, as well.

Jillie on the right

They are like our previous two beloved little poodles in some generalized ways, but they are of course, possessed of unique qualities and personalities as are we all. Their presence in our lives, while making it more interesting in many ways, also at times is a cause for concern verging on fear. Fear for their well-being.

Yesterday while we were out on our regular tour of the woodland trails in the forest nearby our home, we noticed that Jillie was behaving uncharacteristically. She kept pausing, stopping, looking at us and appeared distressed. Something was clearly bothering her. We checked her paws, her legs, her body, and there was nothing adhering to her soft silky hair to annoy her; they often stop as though to ask our help removing a burr or a stick they happen to pick up, interfering with their gait, or causing discomfort.

From the indications we were parsing, it seemed to us it was something she had ingested. She has a habit of running ahead of us and although we can see her, we can also see that she's busy sniffing about, picking things up, gnawing at sticks and other detritus. We surmised she had got something stuck in her throat and it may have grazed her throat when it went down. That has happened to Jackie as well in the past. They're both incorrigible about foraging for junk on the trails, from spruce needles to bark, sticks to rotting apples.

We are kept busy admonishing them, telling them to drop what they have, or instructing them to bypass what they're interested in, and though they do obey, often instantly, their urge to continue is never-ending, and it seems hopeless. Keeping them on leash is a partial solution since it would give us greater control, but even then they manage somehow to circumvent our purpose. And we'd prefer to give them the freedom to roam at will, as long as they remain in sight.

We could see she was in growing distress, and we felt confident about our diagnosis. My husband's reaction is to take her directly to the emergency veterinarian hospital a half-hour drive from our house, but I cautioned they would find nothing awry, the damage had been done, and we'd just be sent home. It wasn't my argument, based on previous experience that convinced him though; he feared having to leave her there for observation.

We carried her along a bit, reasoning it would give her comfort. And when we got home and cleaned her up, she went directly to sleep, but finding herself unable to find complete comfort, kept rising uneasily and would look at us with a despairing, confused expression that was purely heart-breaking. It's like an echo from the past, when you're raising young children, they become ill and as parents you are frantic about them.

As the afternoon wore on, it seemed unlikely she would eat at dinnertime, but she finally settled into a good, deep sleep. And when their meals were prepared, there she was, eager to eat, though we could see evidence that her throat was being irritated even as she ate. More sleep followed into the evening hours, and she slept well, without waking throughout the night. Today? She's her normal self.

Sigh.