Sick as a Dog

The Little Dog. You know him well. And his need to eat things that were not meant for eating.

Last night he changed his ways and actually ate something that was meant to be eaten. By people. Chocolate. You know from earlier adventures how much the Little Dog likes chocolate.

Let me set the stage.

ChellBell is preparing for "7 events for 7 years" AKA "the birthday party of the century". She has chosen 7 friends who will each get 7 presents and participate in her favorite 7 things to do between 6pm this Friday and 2pm the following day. It involves a lot of preparation. And pink things. And snacks. And pink snacks.

So to be on the ball and get a few things done ahead of time, we made our way to the candy store last weekend. And for the record, there is no need to take ChellBell to Disney again, because we essentially get the same response from the CandyFactory at the mall for several thousand dollars less. We ran from bin to bin getting every pink candy we could find. Pounds of it. I mean POUNDS. With a capital L and a capital B. Let's just say we had about 2.4 pounds for every girl who will be at the 7for7 extravaganza. We HAD. not We HAVE.

Because the little dog helped himself.

To, um, about 2 pounds of pink M&Ms.

No doubt they were yummy.

And then the fun began. I didn't get home from work last night until around 8:15. And he had already puked 4 times. And for the next 3 hours and 28 minutes the puking continued. Everywhere the dog could go. We locked him in the bathroom, and he puked. 6 times. So we took him out of the bathroom to clean and bleach it. And he puked 8 times. Twice on the sofa.

I'll spare you the vomit count. It was not pretty. Didn't smell so bad, actually. But no fun to clean up.

With all the frustration the Little Dog has put us through, we decided at the on-set that we would not take any money that could go toward replacing the now $845 worth of shoes he has eaten and have his stomach pumped. If it was his time to go be with his Maker, it was time.

Evidently, his Maker didn't want him either. And he survived. And he is fine.

And I have a hunch that this will not be the last story about the Little Dog. So stay tuned...