This post comes to your courtesy of Seatac International Airport and their free WIFI.
Just look at that face. If you look really closely, you might see a streak of charcoal. Clementine nearly died this weekend. And Levi is lucky to be alive as well, as her death would have been a direct result of him breaking at least two rules. We were probably a little irritated with him already, being in full blown teen mode lately. The night before he had been up all night working on a project he had procrastinated. Boo.
Clementine had been acting a little antsy. I had already retreived her from the depths of the house once and plopped her onto our bed only to have her puke a tiny bit on our blanket. Awesome. Add another load of laundry to my to do list. Not all that unusual because the dog is like a goat who will eat any piece of trash she can manage to grab before you pick it up. But by the time Jess got home and Clementine disappeared for about five minutes again, I knew she was up to no good. Only really, I had no idea what was in store for me.
It was kind of like I walked into the living room and discovered there had been a tornado. Only instead of finding piles of clothes and broken dishes everywhere, there were giant, brown puddles of barf. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that there were at least twelve piles all over the house. Pretty soon Jess heard me making some sort of noises. I’m not certain if I was screaming, cursing, or just crying in utter horror, but she came running. She quickly discovered more puke on THE SOFA. And under the cushions, more puke. How did she do this?
I set to work cleaning up, and as disgusting as it was, I was baffled that it didn’t smell a lot worse. In fact, it smelled kind of sweet. You know, I’m pretty sure it smelled and looked exactly like chocolate. Clementine had barfed the equivalent of Willy Wonka’s chocolate river all over our house. But how in the world could she have gotten any chocolate? We searched the house for wrappers. Nothing. It was completely baffling because what could she have gotten into that could have created this kind of volume?
It took at least 30 minutes for Levi to snap out of his coma long enough to realize, “Oh yeah, I snuck a bag of chocolate chips into my bedroom the other day.” Of course we are kind of fancy around here so the chocolate chips in our house are 60% cacao. And the boy alleges he only ate a couple handfuls. There was barely a quarter of a 12 ounce bag left. You do the math. By the way, the Chihuahua weighs 7 pounds. So off we rushed to the emergency vet, who estimated she ate at least 6 times a lethal dose of dark chocolate.
We spent the night thinking she may die and the estimate of the bill was close to $2000. And they make you sign about 12 forms and fork over a hefty down payment before they get too far into treatment. This dog has a stomach of a steel, though. They induced more vomiting and reported they got a significant amount of more “chocolate soup” out of her (the veterinarian’s actual words). She was tachycardic for several hours and they were pretty sure she was going to need some life saving measures, but we begged them to try mainly IV fluids and charcoal treatments and not run a ton of tests unless she starts to show any signs of getter worse.
And voila! Maybe she just had a really bad caffeine high. She seems a little hungover but otherwise fine. Our little chocolate eating miracle. To illustrate how thoroughly this dog will eat anything, they told us that she voluntarily ate the charcoal they normally have to syringe feed to animals. Not just once, but for both treatments. And let’s just say the vet bill ended up being a lot less than the worst case scenario. Why in fact it was low enough to be covered by, let’s say, a 13 year-old’s savings account. If you think I’m mean, you clearly don’t know how many conversations we’ve had about Clementine getting her hands on chocolate. He left the bag ON HIS BEDROOM FLOOR!
I am just so thankful we made it to the airport today. Here we come New York!