(If you’re squeamish you may want to skip this post.)
This morning while getting ready for work I had a flashback to one of my fondest memories of my first foster, Dash. He was around 16 weeks old (if I remember correctly) when I got him. As anyone that’s cared for a young puppy knows, at this point, he should have been dewormed a couple of times. Should have. The shelter he came from does not provide medical care so this was never done. Can you guess where this is headed?
At his first vet visit I received the dewormer to give him. Once home, I gave it to him and waited. And waited a little more. As soon as the sun was completely down and it was nice and pitch black out, Dash decided he was ready to go out and do his business. He squatted down and starting doing his thing. And then froze. And then yelped a little. And then began scooting his bottom on the ground while looking at me, his face a mask of sheer terror, seemingly saying, “Oh. My. Dog. Whatishappeningtomeeeee?!?!”
And that’s when I saw them. Worms. White, stringy, glowing-in-the-dark, worms. Hanging out of his bottom. No amount of straining on Dash’s part was going to get them out of his little body. What’s a foster mom to do? Well get her hands dirty of course. No really, I got my hands dirty. Dirrrr-ty. With a resigned sigh I reached in there and starting pulling. And they kept coming, and coming, and coming. The string of them literally longer than my arm by the time I finished.
Moral of the story? Worms grow. Deworm puppies as recommended by your veterinarian. And of course, foster moms rock. Have you ever gotten your hands dirty for one of your dogs or a foster? Do share!