Hank Ate It

Yesterday afternoon was F-U-N. I delivered great photos, I got to see Don at work and then did a little browsing of all the crazy new baby contraptions at BabiesRUs. On the way home in my great mood, I drove by my friend's school where she works. Found her car, parked by it and proceeded to call her over and over and over again until she picked up so we could go play. I thought we'd do ice cream at Sonic or something of the like. She reminded me it was 1st Thursday - this really cool thing they do on South Congress once a month. We've never been cool enough to go, but it seemed the stars were aligned on this day. We headed to the house to grab food for the peanut. The manic hyper dog was played by Hank. I noticed the empty bowl on the living room floor. The bowl previously held delicious Hersey kisses and peanutbutter hugs (or whatever they call them now), all of it leftover by the lack of trick-or-treaters we had been expecting.

Sarah tells me this has happened to her and her dog before and boy did he upchuck! So I think, I'll put Hank in the garage where he can't mess up anything and will call Don to let him know what our plans are, etc. It's 5 pm now and I call the vet. They want me to give Hank a tablespoon of hydrogen peroxide to drink to induce vomiting. Doesn't that sound horrible? I coat the spoon with peanut butter to get it down him. It doesn't phase him a bit and we wait an hour. Nothing doing. So a trip to the emergency vet with a cranky tired sick baby and all my hopes and dreams of getting to 1st Thursday smashed in a matter of seconds. Top it off with $300 for a pumped stomach and a night spent in a small crate and I don't think any of us were happy in the end. But we still have Hank. And we still have each other. So the Roedner score is still One Dog Down (Purdy) and One Baby Up.