So we couldn’t figure out who had strep throat. But everyone knew that someone in Goose’s household was sick. Whether they wanted to know or not. Headphones are useless–even with noise canceling technology.
“I thought it was the dog,” said Purse Maven.
“I thought it was the kid,” I said.
Whoever it was, it was a bad case. Sore throat and swollen glands and really tired and panting a lot and listless.
Finally, after an hour of phone calls it became clear what was up.
“Hello? Oh thank God! Listen: so I don’t trust the veterinarian. And my husband is really disgusted with the whole thing. So the pediatrician has my son on penicillin, and the vet is all freaked out and wants to put the dog on amoxicillin, and I don’t know if that will fix it. Yeah, both of them. I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know! Well, he’s washing his hands really well right now. Well, he licks his hands and his feet and his face and then…I don’t know. Yeah. So will that work? Well, he tested positive and then he tested negative and then he tested positive. Like I said, my husband is really disgusted and I told him, ‘It’s just kids being kids.'”
Gross. So the dog and the kid have Streptococcus bacteria overgrowth in their throats. How the hell did the dog get it from the kid? I’ve gotten strep throat from a boyfriend before. But I didn’t give it to any other animals.
We, too, are disgusted.
Goose attack! This is how it feels, man.