You Want Me to Do What?

Before having children, everyone should have a dog.  I might even go so far as to say everyone should own a puppy, or at least a young dog.  Dogs are fabulous training for parenthood.  Why?  You get to practice crucial skills like: cleaning up poop, extracting objects from someone's mouth before they choke on it, getting by on a few hours of sleep (because puppies can't hold it all night), learning to keep the toilet paper (and any other paper product, really) out of reach, and so on. 

Pre-Gavin, I learned a lot of lessons from my two dogs, Arnie and Danion.  One lesson is so important, I'm going to share it with you.  But I warn you, it's a little bit gross.  Okay, it's about 6.5 on the grossness scale.  So, be prepared.  Also be prepared to learn an awesome tip that will possibly save you hundreds of dollars on vet bills (and, I'm not going to lie, it could be a pretty fun joke to play on someone.  Just throwing that out there).

One hot August day, after returning home from an eight-hour bore-me-out-of-my-mind training, I noticed something was amiss in the house.  Well, actually, Danion alerted me that something was amiss.  You see, when he does something wrong, whether you notice it right away or not, he acts guilty.  He walks around with his head lowered, gazing at you with sad little puppy eyes that seem to say, "I'm so sorry."  Except he's not.  He just knows he's going to get in trouble.

On this day, Danion was giving me "the look," but I had my mind on other things.  In the morning, we were leaving for a trip to the Smoky Mountains, so I had a lot of packing and organizing to do.  On top of that, I had just found out I was pregnant.  I was nervous, excited, and dreading packing because I always take enough outfits to last me sixteen days more than I need.  After I aimlessly threw outfits I would never wear into the suitcase, I began to pack up our "snacks" for the trip.  We were driving, and planned to do a good deal of hiking, so we had purchased an assortment of snacks - animal crackers, NutriGrain bars, mini-candy bars, granola bars, and individual packages of cookies.

What I really should have said is that I attempted to pack up our snacks. . . because they were gone.  Almost all of them.  But, most importantly, the 45 individual chocolate candy bars.  Now, I didn't notice they were gone because I found wrappers everywhere.  Oh no.  I just found the empty bag.  No candies.  No wrappers.  Nothing.  Danion's guilty look suddenly made sense to me.  Those bastards got into our snacks and ate them all.  And the wrappers.

Now, this presented me with two problems:  1.  I now had no snacks for the trip.  2.  My dogs just consumed a hell of a lot of chocolate, and a fair amount of plastic wrappers.  Shit.

In my mind, I imagined doggy death by chocolate overdose, so I quickly phoned the vet.  I explained my situation to the receptionist, thinking they would want me to bring the dogs to the vet, and she said she'd talk to the vet and call me back.  A few minutes later, she called, and gave me some instructions.

"Okay, so what the vet wants you to do is to induce vomiting in the dogs."

Excuse me.  What?  You want me to do what?

"Yes, you have to make them throw up everything they ate."

Uh huh.  I see.  That sounds great.  Awesome.  So, what am I supposed to do, stick my finger down their throats?

She told me that I had to give each dog some hydrogen peroxide.  When ingested, the hydrogen peroxide would "foam up" in their stomachs and make them throw up.  Super!  Based on their weights, I had to give Arnie 1 oz of hydrogen peroxide and Danion needed two ounces.

"Make sure you watch them vomit and count all the candy bars to make sure they all came up."

At this point, I want to punch you, lady.  I have to watch them throw up and then rifle through their puke to count the candy bars?  Is this the part where you say, "Just kidding?"  Ugh.

I hung up the phone, located the hydrogen peroxide (no idea why we even had any), and took a deep breath.  I have no choice but to do this.  I stood there for a moment plotting how I was going to get the hydrogen peroxide in their mouths.  And, how much is 1 oz?  I had no idea.  I didn't know how to covert an ounce to teaspoons or tablespoons, and I really didn't have anything that measured out one ounce of something . . . except . . .yep, you guessed it . . . a shot glass.

In the cupboard, I located a shot glass, grabbed the dogs and the hydrogen peroxide, and headed into the backyard.  Thirsty, puppy?  Here, have a shot!  It didn't go quite that easy.  I had to hold each dog, pry their mouths open, and pour the "shot" down their throats.  Believe, they were not fans.  I'm pretty sure Arnie started plotting my death right then, and Danion just looked so sad.  (He's good at looking guilty and also at making you feel guilty.)

It took about five minutes, and then the heaving started.  Shortly after the heaving came the puking.  Every time Danion puked, he looked at me as if to say, "What did I do to deserve this?"  Well, you ate a whole bunch of candy bars and didn't even bother to take the wrappers off.  That's what you did.  So, dripping in sweat, feeling a little ill, I dutifully followed the dogs around, examining their puke (from afar) and making sure all candy bars were accounted for.  The whole process took about 30 minutes, but I survived.  The worst part?  Poor Arnie only threw up one lonely candy bar.  Danion?  44.

So, now you know how to induce vomiting in dogs.  You're welcome.

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