..and the puppy, who is in the “All Life is a Chew Toy” stage, manages to get the carton from the counter while I’m making coffee.
I was enjoying a rare moment of Saturday morning calm and really should have known better. One quiet minute…two quiet minutes…
“Hey, Pup, where are you?”
I go upstairs and see the cardboard container on the floor. Not a good sign. Then I see a light bulb in the hallway with the metal base missing.
Another bad sign.
He’s in the office, happy as a pig in poo. (Although, are pigs really happy in poo? Maybe/maybe not. I shouldn’t use these expressions without fact-checking them.)
He’s up on the ottoman with the remnants of a light bulb between his paws. He’s definitely quite pleased with himself. This is my 5th dog, so I don’t panic. I scoop up the glass and put it in the waste basket, then I return to the movie.
After a few minutes, it occurs to me that I did not scoop up enough glass to make a lightbulb.
So I take the mostly intact light bulb (the one with the base missing) and I try to tape the glass from the second bulb onto it in order to re-build the bulb. It’s soon obvious that I only have 1/3 of the glass, which means (after a thorough check under the furniture for missing pieces) that the remaining glass is inside the dog.
I call the vet’s even though they won’t be open for another 20 minutes and leave a message. I scoop up the dog, who is delighted to be going for a ride, and drive to the vet’s and pound on the door. The vet tech tells me that the doctor will not be in for another 20 minutes and maybe I should just drive him down to the emergency clinic, which I do.
The emergency clinic is a full-service veterinary hospital. It’s open 24 hours a day. It’s very expensive.
The first time I took a dog there, the vet came out and introduced herself by saying: “Hello. I’m Dr. Jones. How will you be paying today?”
As I said, expensive.
On that day, however, they were not worried. “Oh, we see this all the time. We had a Lab in here last week who swallowed a razor blade!”
They explained that they don’t want to induce vomiting, as this could cause more damage. So they sent us home with a case of dog food designed to compact the stools so that the glass passes through without a problem. Very pragmatic.
So, 90 minutes after we left the house, we’re back home. I spent $250.00 for the visit and the dog food. A bargain.
He loved the dog food, but then, we’ve already established that he is not a discriminate eater.
He curled up for a nap. I decided to go back to the movie, although I can’t for the life of me remember what it was.