Excuse me Ma'am, but there's a hair in your dog

Shawn and I adopted out Chihuahua, Prissy several years ago. She came from a family that included a small boy with a mental disorder. The disorder impaired the boy's speech, in that, he couldn't express himself below the noise level of a freight train. This was only one of the reasons the family couldn't keep the dog. There was no time for potty training or play time and Prissy had become extremely nervous--even for a Chihuahua. (She was actually quite traumatized by all the constant screaming)

After quickly learning where it's acceptable to pee (in about 2 weeks!) and adjusting to her new home, Prissy had become quite comfortable with us and her new surrounding. She did normal dog things like chase our cat in the back yard of our rented house. Most of the times though, the cat did most of the chasing.

Prissy had become so comfortable, in fact, that she decided to amuse herself while we were away at work. She decided to chew up everything in sight. She tore up couch cushions, beloved ball caps and cherished books. She ate ink pens, blue jeans, shoes and most items of clothing. She even occasionally shredded a pack of cigarettes all over the living room from one end to the other. She was pretty hyper on those occasions. Nicotine, is after all a stimulant and probably not too good for a small dog.

We tried everything to get her to stop chewing. We elected to picking up every stray item left within her reach and essentially "puppy proofed" the house each morning before work. Of course occasionally we'd miss an item here and there and I might come home to Shawn practically sobbing over a thirty dollar Dale Earnhardt ball cap. (We nearly held a service for that poor cap)

Nevertheless, we'd become dangerously attached to this wretched dog.
One evening Prissy followed us to bed. She went to sit down but whimpered and quickly stood repeatedly. Shawn and I naturally and quickly realized something was wrong an call for an emergency vet. Dr. Kaiser arrived at his office at 11 pm in the same manner we did: dress to quickly and hair barely combed. He decided prissy had an upset stomach, gave her a shot, charged us $100 and sent us home.

The next morning, however nothing had changed. The poor little dog was still in pain and we rushed her immediately to the vet's office. Thankfully, both our bosses were ok with us being a little late. We had no children and I think everyone knew how we felt about our dog. We left Prissy for X-Rays and were told we'd be notified of the findings later that day.

At 1pm Dr. Kaiser called me at work. "We need to do an emergency stomach surgery NOW! There's something metallic in Prissy's stomach and we need to remove it immediately!" he said.
Um, OK. "Just do it!" I told him. We'd think of a way to pay for it later. Roughly two hours later, Dr. Kaiser called back. "The surgery went very well; Prissy is fine! You're not going to believe what we found in her stomach! I can't explain, you'll just have to come and see for yourself!" He was quite excited.

As soon as Shawn and I were off work we hurried to the vet's place. Dr. Kaiser was gone for the day so his assistant, Gillian assisted us. "I have to show you the X-Ray first!" she exclaimed. We stared stupidly at a film of Prissy's stomach. Neither of us could make much of it except for a little speck. Gillian pointed to the speck saying, "We noticed this small metallic in Prissy's stomach but the X-Ray doesn't show anything else. Once we got inside, we found this!" Gillian produced a small plastic bad marked "Bio Hazard".

"What is it?" we asked, bewildered. Yes, quite bewildered. I can't say I've been bewildered to many time in my life but this a time to be bewildered. "Oh my gosh!" I started. "Is that... hair?"
Inside the bag was a large wad of human hair, a few bits of paper, and some stomach fluids. It weighed about three ounces in total. Sure enough, seems that Shawn and I who both have long and thick hair had been shedding more than the dog. The vacuum apparently didn't catch it all.
Every time Prissy chewed up a cushion or whatnot, she apparently took in some of our hair. This happened over the period of a year or so.

The short hairs of a small dog can easily pass through the digestive system. However, a string of a foot long hair may become lodged in the intestinal tract, therefore backing up anything else that may need to pass through. This is what caused our small so much pain. She couldn't even poop for all the hair in her small intestines!

And that metallic object found on the X-Ray? It was a small bit of foil from the top of a pack of cigarettes. That foil was the only reason Dr. Kaiser knew there anything in Prissy's stomach. The hair didn't show up. It's ironic considering how bad cigarettes are for you.
Gillian went on to describe horror stories, like the German Shepherd that swallowed a large plastic dinosaur in whole. "There it was on the X-Ray, a perfect outline of a T-Rex!" she laughed. Gillian also suggested ways to keep Prissy from eating everything in the house. "Stomach surgery is very major," she explained. "Prissy won't survive another round."
We were overcome with guilt as we visited Prissy in her kennel. Things had to change, I thought. Prissy stayed the night and was a bit fragile for a while.

We spent about $500 on everything, not to mention future expenses. But as far as I'm concerned, it was well worth it. We lied to the loan officer at the bank and told him we were using the loan to purchase Christmas gifts.
Dr. Kaiser called me one day practically begging for a photo of Prissy. "I have to share this with my colleagues! They'll never believe it!"

We opted for baby gates this time around. While we were at work, Prissy was confined to the kitchen until we got home. The next year we bought our first home with a sizable back yard--giant to a small dog and quite a bit larger than the one at the rent house. Within two days of moving in, Shawn installed a cat door in the door leading from the kitchen to the back yard. Now, while we're at work, we can keep her safe from small chewable objects while she still had plenty of room to run. And as you can imagine, it's much more convenient to have a dog that automatically poops outside instead of on a few pages of newspaper.

Prissy is now and will forever be on a special dog food and daily medication. The medication helps to lubricate her intestines so that even small dog hairs can pass through safely. The hair on Prissy's belly has yet to grow back and her scars have never quite faded. We did get an interesting conversation starter and thought about contacting Ripley's Believe It or Not. But it could have certainly been avoided.

When I come home from work Prissy's front feet are propped up against the baby gate, tail wagging so hard it might fall off. The gate is short enough that she could easily jump it but she never has. She stays with me when I'm sick and sharply alerts the entire neighborhood that the mail has arrived. She continues to play like a six month old puppy and even though fixed, she continues to hump her favorite pillow.

Even after all the money and agony we've spent on this little dog, I wouldn't trade her for anything in the world.