I don't know if it's possible for dogs to suffer from irritable bowel syndrome, but if it is, I'm pretty sure Bella has it. The reason behind my belief: this morning's thunderstorm. It literally scared the crap out of her. A loud clap of thunder woke me up this morning. The first thing that I did was to reach over and unplug the electric blanket before the accompanying lightening strike turned me into a human french fry. The second was to reach over and comfort Little Miss Canine Panic Attack, or should I say attempt to comfort her. Apparently, Bella had heard the thunder a lot earlier than me because she had already hauled her not-fat-just-fluffy backside off the bed and securely wedged it behind the toilet in the hall bathroom.
I felt for my glasses, put them on, and followed her in there to try to calm her down. My efforts were a little too late at that point. She was in full-fledged hyperventilation mode. I did manage to get her to come out from behind the toilet, but the next clap of thunder sent her right back to her hiding spot. After further coaching, I managed to convince her to follow me downstairs. She had just gotten over her last UTI. I didn't want her to get another one so I was going to try to get her to go out between claps.
Bella, however, could have cared less about her full bladder. All she cared about was getting behind the downstairs toilet. I had to essentially drag her out from behind it and force her outside. She quickly relieved herself and then ran back to the sliding glass door. About five seconds after I opened the door to let her and Bailey, the dog who refused to step off the porch, back in, she returned to the narrow space behind the toilet. I kept telling her that it was just a thunderstorm, that there were no tornadoes this time, and that Mommy wasn't going to let the big, bad storm get her, but she wasn't having any of it. All she wanted was the comforts of cold, white porcelain. After unsuccessfully begging her to go back upstairs with me for 10 minutes, I had to finally pick her up and carry her back to bed.
She cried and circled the bed for the next hour before she finally gave up and went to sleep. When I woke up the second time, I caught the distinctive whiff of poo. I don't know if was there the first time that I woke up or not. If it was, I was too tired to smell it. Regardless, I followed the odor to the front bedroom and found what it was emanating from--diarrhea. Both droplets and piles of the foul substance decorated the room's carpet. At that point, all I could do was sigh. The damage was already done, and I knew I had at least half an hour of steam cleaning ahead of me once the storms had passed.
As Bella hasn't had another poopy episode since, I'm pretty sure that this morning's defecation was anxiety related. She just can't handle the stress of thunder and lightening. If we continue to have storms like the one this morning or the tornado-related ones last week, I may just have to take her to the vet and get her a hefty dose of doggy Xanex or Valium.
