It’s Wednesday morning, and the news is full of warnings about the polar vortex barreling toward most of the country — including Greenville, SC. The kind of cold that makes you rethink every plan, every errand, every piece of food in your pantry. This weekend is shaping up to be a mess.
So yes, I’m doing the usual storm prep: stocking up on food that doesn’t require cooking, filling the gas tank, and leaving the car in the driveway so I can use it for heat if the power goes out. I even have my car kettle ready to warm liquids if it comes to that. It’s a whole mood.
But the weather isn’t the headline today.
Rosie is.
Yesterday she ate her dinner like a champ, tail wagging, everything normal. Then I went upstairs and found a shocking amount of vomit on the rug — a tangled nest of rug fibers from the throw rug where she plays with her toys. I nearly threw up while cleaning it, and the fear hit me harder than the smell.
She hasn’t chewed anything in years. Not one thing. But she found a loose fiber and went to town, and her stomach paid the price. That rug is now in the trash, and I am officially on fiber alert.
This morning she drank water, walked normally, pooped normally, and didn’t show signs of pain — but I wasn’t taking chances. Off to the vet we went. She’s home now, sound asleep, worn out from the whole ordeal. And honestly, so am I. She is just fine.
January has not been a fun month. Between my brain, Rosie’s surprise fiber feast, and the storm rolling in, I’m feeling stretched thin. And then I read that this kind of Arctic weather is now expected to become an annual winter event.
When did we piss off Mother Nature? Oh, wait — which time pissed her off the most?
