Member-only story
What The Dog Ate
(Warning: Language. So much language.)
At the end of summer a few years ago, my son Jonah invited a small cadre of 13 year-old-boys over for the night. My husband, Jeff, made pizza and baked brownies for them to eat while watching movies in the living room. He and I were just starting to ignore them all as they settled into some kind of Star Trek bonanza when, through cracking voices and sudden high-pitched hysteria it was RED ALERT: the dog ate no fewer than 10 abandoned toxic chocolate brownies from the center of the dining room table. Beagles are from the 7th circle of hell.
Jonah started to freak out in the most totally uncool manner, which I quickly squelched as I mobilized the cadre of 13yob’s into action. Simultaneously fascinated and terrified, they followed all of my barking orders like a bunch of kindergartners in the headlights. I grabbed the heavy duty grill gloves, the hydrogen peroxide and a turkey baster and headed for the backdoor. Not my first rodeo, boys, I reassured them. Sure you can come. It’ll be fun to watch a dog barf up the dessert you just ate.
Now…usually (yes usually — this dog finds chocolate we didn’t even know we had on a fairly regular basis) when I shove a turkey baster full of hydrogen peroxide down this dogs throat the mere suggestion that a few drops might actually hit his stomach is enough to make him offer up whatever he ate…