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January 18, 2008
eyes the size of manhole covers
Elizabeth and I were preparing to watch a movie when one of us set some chocolates on my coffee table. In the time it took me to get drinks, the candy disappeared. It was unlikely, although not unprecedented, for Elizabeth to have scarfed that much candy that fast. I glared at Ed, who was in her bed, smacking her lips and all but picking her teeth with a toothpick. "Father," her eyes said gratefully, "That was exquisite. Thank you. You really should have had some, though."
Chocolate is, of course, poisonous to dogs. I poured Ed a bowl of milk and added a few tablespoons of hydrogen peroxide. "Would you like a little something to wash that down?" I cooed, for if I betrayed my rage Ed would have refused to drink anything I put in front of her. Ed slurped it down, and before long Elizabeth and I were sitting on my couch watching not a movie but Ed barfing on the balcony. Good times.
Properly escavated, Ed slinked back to her bed, and I had a new problem. On my patio was a tower of foamy puke about ten inches high and a foot in diameter. It was massive. Ever clever, I got a cookie sheet and slid it under the tower, more or less, and I carried the cookie sheet through the sliding glass door and into the living room. Kinda. What I actually did was ram the cookie sheet into the door frame, arresting my movement and causing the pile of puke to launch across the sheet toward an alarmed Elizabeth, seated not two feet away.
I wish I had a better ending to this tale. I somehow managed to stop the puke's once-promising ballistic trajectory. I will tell you this, though: I will never forget the look on Elizabeth's face.
posted by john at 7:47 AM • permalink