We had a scare recently here at la casa de la Rayburn. Our poor mini-dachshund Jimi Hendrix got sick. (While he bears no actual resemblance to the rocker of the same name I can hug my Jimi Hendrix and roll him around on the floor and play with him. I couldn't have done that with the other one without causing some risque gossip...although my Jimi can't play the guitar as well as the other Jimi either.)
Anyway, we came home a few days ago and poor Jimi was laying on the floor shaking and whining. I was instantly worried, because I was instantly reminded of when my chihuahua Sugar got sick when I was 10. She had cancer and died, and before she died she laid around and shook and yelped.
Luckily, my mom, God bless her, has a clearer head than mine. She immediately knew what it was. She took him into the kitchen and gave Jimi some mineral oil and some medicine and said, "He's constipated. It sometimes happens to dachshunds. Don't worry. He'll be fine." I wasn't so sure.
My heart sank when, the next day, he still laid there yelping and whining. I was getting panicky, but my mom just gave him more medicine and said that he would be fine. Next day, he was perfectly fine. He's been bouncing around for the past couple days as happy as he can be. I'm so glad that he feels better.
Below is a picture of both Jimis. Try to guess which one is mine, :D