Feeling Like A Bad Mom

So....Abby threw up last night. Contained in the second of the two messes was a piece of plastic. Chewed up, but still identifiable as some sort of small plastic container. Like the kind that condiments are served in at restaurants. Sort of like a single serving butter container. Where could she have gotten that from? She hasn't been to any restaurants. Oh wait, we have... Hmmm....didn't we bring home some really yummy rolls from lunch on Sunday? Weren't they on the counter in the kitchen? Uh-oh. A quick midnight run to the kitchen showed that there were no longer any rolls, nor bags that had contained said rolls, on the counter. What kind of a mom lets her cancer- and chemo-filled dog get into things that cause vomiting? Or could cause worse than vomiting? An imperfect mom, I guess. Poor Abby was so hungry she just had to convince the cats to knock the rolls off the counter so that she wouldn't fade away to a pile of fur. She was just being Abby, doing what dogs do. Me, on the other hand, I was the bad one.

After the vomiting, she looked much perkier and proceeded to sleep contentedly through the rest of the night. She has been bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning and acting normally, but I'm still not entirely settled. Maybe my task is to live like Abby and not worry about the upcoming minutes and hours. Right now she's lying in the sunroom comfortably. That's good enough for me.