Delilah’s a lunatic.
Some days I laugh on the spot at her lunacy and other days…well other days, I have to wait to laugh, or at least wait until after I’ve spoken to the vet to be sure she’s going to be okay.
Last week I picked the grandkids up from school and brought them to my house. The Boy promptly went downstairs to get away from his sister, while the Girl, stayed upstairs with me.
Like most good Grandma’s, I have some books and toys set aside for them. The Girl went digging about and came up with a small Play-Doh set. “Can I play with this?” she asked, holding it up to show me.
“Of course you can.” I replied and set her up on top of the pool table with her new found treasure. It had been a while since anyone had played with it, and the Play-Doh was quite hard. I tried warming it up a bit and manipulating it with my hands so she could at least make a few cutouts.
After a short time, she decided she was done with the Play-Doh and went off to do something else. I was looking for a show for her to watch on TV, when I heard a slurping noise.
“Shit!” I screamed. The Girl looked at me (thankfully she didn’t ask me what shit meant, although on Saturday she did ask about bad ass, but that’s another story.)
“What?” she asked, without looking away from the TV.
“Delilah ate the Play-Doh. Time to call the vet.”
Thankfully, Play-Doh is non-toxic. A bunch of dogs or kids must have ingested a lot of Play-Doh, because Play-Doh (thankfully) spells that shit out right on the box. “NON-TOXIC.” (BTW, I discovered that while I was ON the phone with the vet’s office.)
The vet thought there might be a high salt content in the Play-Doh, and that Delilah might be thirsty later on, a fact I reminded her of as she was slurping up an entire bowl of water later that evening.
As I was cleaning up from dinner, I went around the back side of the breakfast bar and found some hard, dry cheese that was somehow missed in the cleanup from Mom’s birthday dinner.
Yeah, the dog ate the Play-Doh, but left the cheese.
Go figure.
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