Friend sent along a hugely funny video here…of an owner challenging his dogs, searching out the guilty party in a food theft….made me remember a similar incident we had….
Setting the Scene: Ariel and I have just arrived in Manhattan Beach from Switzerland where we are living at the time.
Circumstance: Friends Kenny and Jackie have offered us the use of their home, their cars, refrigerator….the whole shebang…for our one week visit. Our hosts are off in Scotland so Ariel and I are solo in the house except for their three dogs….Rusty, a scampish Lab, Spice, an irascible mutt, and K.D., a bitsy little five-pounder.
The Crisis: Events have inspired me to write this early morning confession which I fax to Kenny and Jackie at their hotel in Scotland….
Dear Kenny and Jackie,
Kenny, remember as you gave me the house key I asked if you were really comfortable having us stay in your home? Your response, as I recall, was, “What’s the worst that can happen, you crash the car?” Followed by a statement that things aren’t that important in life.
This fax is a somewhat delayed reply to that rhetorical question.
Ariel and I arrived around 2:00. At 6:00, we walked to town to poke around and have a quick dinner.
Home by 7:30, Ariel was dizzy-tired, but I–spotting wrappings on the floor–summoned plenty of energy to chastise her for eating chocolate in Kelsey’s room.
Suspicion instantly fell on Rusty, but what if little K.D. had turned into a thieving demon when we were gone?
I called your vet, who ratcheted up my concern–already high–by two orders of magnitude. I was to induce vomiting in suspect #1. If examination of the evidence proved he was not the offender, I was to move on to contestant #2, etc.
Hydrogen peroxide is, apparently, the method of choice for inducing vomiting in dogs. You may have some, but rooting in medicine cabinets violates privacy principles so I humped down to Vons, posting Ariel on dog watch.
Out in the courtyard I went with Rusty, who was very much his normal galoot self. “Will he drink it?” I’d asked the vet. “Oh no, you’ll have to pry open his jaws and pour in spoonsful until it works.”
One spoonful. Nothing. Two. Nothing. Three. Four. Ditto. (I was hoping not to have to move on to Spice who kept reminding me–grrrrr…–that I wasn’t fooling anyone, she knew full well I was NOT Jackie.)
At spoon #5, Rusty began taking evasive action, still in his sweet lovey way. Spoon #6 ended up all over his muzzle and I had to put in twice. Still nothing. I tried to remember if the vet said teaspoon or tablespoon. I persisted, waiting between each spoon for action.
After #8, Rusty ambled off to a back corner of the yard for a little privacy.
And the verdict:
This transpired 8-9 hours ago. I’ve just checked again, and all dogs are fine if puzzled by the late night attention.
I hope houseguesting–can that be a verb?–is kind of like having a wedding. There’s always one wrinkle before proceeding to happily-ever-after.
Hope you’ve enjoyed this letter as much as I enjoyed experiencing it.