ONE SMALL DOG + 7 OZ. CHOCOLATE =

Y'all remember when your kiddos would throw up wienies and red Kool-aid? It's happened to all parents. Well, I'm going to change it up a little bit. I'm blogging this mostly to pound out my frustration on the keyboard and to share a fascinating afternoon in my life, with you. . . . .my readers. You want to know the good and the bad, don't you???

Okey dokey!
Well.
This afternoon has been oh. . .so. . .pleasant.
Remember GiGi, the Bichon that we rescued the first of September? The dog that cost us $1,000.00 (emergency surgery) the first week we had her because we were "taken" by the previous owners?

The dog that has gone on to cost us a bundle because of vet visits, a steroid shot, followed a month later by prednisone pills, all because of a skin condition that she came to us with, oh, and let's not forget the when said dog, G., is on the pred pills that she can't control her bladder......I'll spare you the details.

But it's all good. She is getting, and has gotten, the medical attention that she needed and continues to need and we adore her.
Well, "we" adored her until this afternoon. . . . .

Picture, if you will......go with me in your mind's eye to my studio......

It all started with me walking through my studio to the garage to snag a diet cherry Dr. P. from the fridge out there. As I approached the studio I could see that someone, excuse me, some DOG, said dog being G., had completely destroyed a really sturdy sack that was full of gifts that I received at the Paper Whimsy retreat I went to last month. She had gone through each item in the sack to get to the bottom where there were two 3.5 oz. specialty bars of milk chocolate that I had bought as gifts.

Now, I realize that at this point I should be showing you pictures of the mess in the studio, the chewed up chocolate bar cardboard sleeves, a picture of me on the computer looking up, "small dog eats chocolate", me calling the vet's, so many photo ops. But, I couldn't/can't be bothered right now - I'm too busy pounding the keys on my laptop getting my frustrations out!

In an effort to remove myself from the situation I am going to tell the entire story in bullet form and in third person. . . . .

• small 15# dog eats 7 ounces of specialty milk chocolate
• upon discovery and being anal retentive, owner cleans up mess first, after scolding said small dog
• owner researches symptoms of "a small dog eating lots of chocolate" on the Internet
• calls vet immediately after finding out that it can be oh, so dangerous
• vet tech tells owner to get said small dog to drink Hydrogen Peroxide and then bring her to the clinic
• owner asks vet tech, "What??! Put it in a bowl and say, 'Here, G., drink this! It's good!'?"
• owner gets H.P. down said dog with a turkey baster that will make some garbage man's wife a nice stocking stuffer
• vet tech did not advise owner that it could take several minutes for the H.P. to work
• "work" meaning "make said dog throw up the chocolate"
• in a rush to get to the clinic, owner covers the bucket seat on the passenger side of owner's most loved convertible to protect the leather seat if said dog needs to spit up
• owner puts said dog on the towel on the seat in the beloved car and tells her not to spit up
• just before owner is able to start beloved car, owner's cell rings
• the vet is on the phone and starts asking questions about the incident
• at that moment, said dog has turned into the exorcist and is spewing chocolate vomit all over said beloved convertible as the vet yaps on
• not meaning to be rude but fearing that said dog's head may start turning a 360, owner yells at vet that owner will call back as owner throws down the phone
• there is vomit everywhere it could possibly be in a small, enclosed area.
• working quickly and throwing up in the back of owner's throat during the entire ordeal, owner gets beloved car cleaned up and kills said dog
• oh, alright, owner didn't kill said dog, owner called the vet back
• "She threw up that much, huh? Well, I really don't think you need to bring her in. Sounds like she's gotten most of it out. Watch for more vomiting, and, oh, she may have some diarrhea tonight."
• "Thank you. Thank you so much."

WE'VE ADOPTED YET ANOTHER ONE...

Yes, it's true, we now have five rescue pets - four dogs and one cat.

Our newest addition to our menagerie is GIGI *called "GI"*, a bichon frische.

And, yes, she's *believe it or not* a "rescue dog".

Here's picture no. 1 of her Preciousness! Is she a doll, or what? Such a sweetie!

Her "parents" are going overseas and can't take her with them so, to make a long story short, which for me is a real stretch, we adopted her through the rescue dog organization I belong to.

She loves to take naps on the ottoman under the window in the sitting area of my bedroom. She and Baxter fight over it.

She's 9 years old, in relatively good health and so, so precious.

She sleeps at the foot of our bed on her pillow with a twin sheet bunched up around her so she can burrow. (Hey, she's not burrowing in my bed)

Her very favorite place to be is attached to my hip, but I draw the line, so she props herself on MY ottoman leaving me about 12 inches for both legs! She'll just curl up there and sleep while I blog. Pretty stinkin' cute.Now that you've met the newest member of our flock and you feel compelled to send money to help with vet bills, grooming bills, flea meds, heart worm pills and dog and cat food, feel free.

And, as usual, I thank my loyal readers for taking the time to read about the latest happenings in my very exciting life! Next post is about the June/July giveaway - check back because it's a BIG one.

xoxo, Jan