Doug’s sister Diane and her fiancé Brad came to watch the kids and dogs over the weekend because we were traveling for a friend’s fiftieth birthday (happy birthday, Meredith!).
On Saturday morning, Diane called us in a panic because Strudwick had managed to get Thatcher’s jacket – with a pack of gum inside – out of the house and over to the side yard. By the time they got to him, they estimated he had downed eight to 10 pieces of the sugar-free variety that is made with Xylitol (i.e. the absolute worst thing a dog can eat). I know this from all of my vet and poison control calls re: brownies, wax lips, printer cartridges, and Easter egg dye. “At least it wasn’t Xylitol,” I could always tell myself.
Below you can see the victim, ahem, jacket and remnants of the gum container:
Given all that Strud has ingested without issue in the past, I confess I was a little skeptical this latest caper truly endangered him. But I did begin the ‘Vomit Protocol’ that I know like the back of my hand and instruct Di to stand down on the animal hospital.
Di and Brad were supposed to take the kids to a sports game that morning and were due to head out any minute, so she asked me what to prioritize. At this point, I have come to trust Strud’s ability to handle wholly unhandleable things. But, then again, this was Xylitol. Di said she believed he had actually ingested it the night before, so my suspicion was he had already weathered the storm.
Long story short, he was fine. It was as though nothing happened. The saga does not end there though.
Sunday marked the last day of Diane and Brad’s kid/house/dog sitting, and Brad learned the hard way that you cannot sit quietly have coffee on the porch if Strud is outside. As you likely already predicted, an overly enthusiastic Strudwick spilled the beverage all over Brad… and then ran away.
His next feat (this is like teens drinking when mom and dad are away) was to capture an innocent deodorant stick and try to eat it. Turns out, the deo was not to his liking. Like onions, it is apparently one of the few things he will not ingest, which explains why the damaged contraband was left behind in his dog bed.
We arrived home later that day and, while Di and Brad said the kids were a dream, I think the Strudwick stress was enough to send them running for the hills. Who will kid/house/dog sit now?!
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