El Diablo Strikes Again

I came home from work yesterday to find wrappers and remnants of a 1 lb bag of Twizzler individually wrapped Halloween candy. On the floor. Eaten. By a dog of short stature.

I really didn't think anything of it. Dogs get into stuff, it wasn't chocolate or bleach, so I figured I would be in for a night of motor boat farts and maybe some vomiting. That all changed when we tried to feed him dinner. When Short Dog is fed, he dances around your feet, runs up and down the basement stairs, sometimes whines, and LEAPS on his bowl as if we have not fed him in a month. He will inhale his food and then circle Kobi, hoping that he leaves a crumb behind. I took a dog obedience course and they say dogs are either motivated by food or praise. We have one of each. Kobi doesn't really care about food at all. He eats to survive, period. He nibbles at treats, rarely finishes his entire dinner, and has never been much of a beggar.

Short Dog didn't just not finish his dinner. He didn't even touch it. The boy and I looked at each other with terror in our eyes. This either meant he was finally going to eat us in our sleep for putting him on a diet, or holy crap, he is full of Twizzler. We then looked at Short Dog.He looked like he swallowed a basketball whole. I tried to draw it for you in Paint, but due to my amazing drawing skills, the portrait was bought by the Art Institute of Chicago and is in their newest digital art exhibit. So, you can see it there.

I digress. So, the boy and I start freaking out. What do you do when a dog is bloated and it is freaking you out? You poke him. Look at each other, then poke him again. It was like poking a monument to my digital art abilities. I immediately call the vet, who is used to me. I tend to have a "we're all going to die" mentality when it comes to my dogs. I fear the day that I procreate. So, does the entire American Medical Association. I will ruin health care in this country, single handedly.

(Man, I cannot stay on subject tonight. This new B12 supplement the doctors have me taking is making me spazzy.)

The vet tech asked me a lot of questions, like, how long ago was it, how much did he ingest, was there chocolate, etc. It happened while I was at class, so I had no idea how long ago and you can only induce vomiting in dogs if it was within 2 hours. After gathering all of my information, they said they would call me back.

TWO HOURS later and the phone finally rings. The boy talked to her, and he is a man, so of course I got like 2% of the details I would have wanted. Nothing against men, but come on guys, even you can admit we would win a question war any day of the week.

Basically, he will be fine. It may take a few days for him to eat (ha! He ate about 11:30 that night after gnawing on my leg.) He would have sugar highs and crashes, which were moderately funny, in a sad sort of way. He would be lethargic and have that glazed look in his eyes that dogs get when they are sick. But, he will be fine. The weird unexpected thing? He wheezed all night. He was so full, his little Short Dog body couldn't breathe. (heart=breaking)

Tonight I made a bowl of popcorn and set it on the coffee table to go to the bathroom. I returned to find a certain dog's nose in it, gnawing away. He didn't get that much, but a part of me just wants to resign and feed him a diet of lard and Twizzler.

Do they accept dogs on The Biggest Loser? Because if they do...he will blame his weight gain on not getting enough belly rubs from his mother. I just know it.