Then THAT happened.

Coco’s behavior had started to change.  Boy-dogs at the dog park started getting fresh with her.  In an effort to avoid a kotex-moment, we started researching the veterinarians to spay Coco.  You could buy a Japanese coupe for most of the quotes we got, but after finally finding a vet, we begrudgingly took the puppy to get her love-stuffs removed.  It was so good to have Coco-loco home.  She came back form the vet with a Direct TV collar which she hated but tolerated.

And then, one day, a week later, she destroyed a pair of shoes, several socks, a chew toy, a hard-cover book, and any kitchen rag within her reach a 200 pill count bottle of Aleve. Pills were all over the floor.  Some had the blue sugar coating licked off.  Fantastic.  Panic.  Focus. Speed dial to the animal hospital.  It’s possible that she didn’t eat any.   It’s possible she ate 75.

The vet over the phone said that more than 2 pills could kill a dog.  She seemed fine, waggy, happy, like her normal “drown-me-in-milkbones-mom” self.  Once at the animal hospital the vet said things like “poison control,” “have her eat charcoal,” “toxicology,” “I.V. fluids,” and then my favorite, “flush her kidneys for 72 hours, but she should be fine”  Whew. Unclench.  She’ll be fine… but a whole weekend without Coco?  Part of the reason you get a dog is so they can entertain you on the weekend! Like, wake you up earlier than you want, force you to stop watching TV to walk them, follow you around the kitchen hoping for an “oops” to fall on the floor, greet you when you come in from the other side of any door.  Coco got back from rehab and aside from a bad case of the “hershey squirts” (and a haircut to clean her up after those squirts) she’s doing well.  And all the medicines have been put in a dog-proof container.

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