My week started great. A little girls' trip with my mom to not just one, but two outlet malls. No worries about calorie counts, just good food, conversation, and country music blaring on the radio.
On our way home we decided to stop at IKEA. Neither of us had even been, and since we didn't have the boys or kids with us, we figured we could just wander for a few hours. Which is exactly what we did. For those of you who have never been to an IKEA, it is like Pottery Barn, Garden Ridge, Lowes, Rooms to Go, and Crate and Barrel had a baby. And then that baby grew into a giant. The highlight was a restaurant right in the middle of the store. Not only this, but they sold giant Swedish dark chocolate bars.
Of course I bought 3, which not only saved me $.50, but insured we had dessert and snacks for our journey home.
We devoured the first bar and I put the other two in my purse for safe keeping. At some point, probably when I was trying to find my keys in the endless abyss that is my purse, I moved the chocolate from my purse to my overnight bag.
This morning mom joined me at the grocery store, since our pb&j sandwiches no longer had the pb or the bread, so we were reduced to eating jelly straight out of the jar.
When we unloaded the car, I thought I would be a sweet mommy and let our ten year old beagle Rocky back in the house. We were leaving for a few hours, and as they say on Phineas and Ferb, he doesn't do much.
That is unless he sniffs out the chocolate bars in your overnight bag. Then he magically grows temporary thumbs with which he open the packages and eats both. Then he decides there may be other treats stashed around the house as well. This leads to pulling the coat rack off the wall, taking Anna's backpack and dragging it to her room, where, using his magic thumbs, he opens the zipper takes out her daily folder and opens it. Clearly he didn't think much of the spring break homework, because that is the first place he decided to throw up.
While trying to calm a daughter who now has dog vomit in her homework folder, I step in the second pile. In bare feet. On the kitchen floor. Richie's dog (which is what I call him when I am angry) gets banished to the back yard where he howls, whines, whimpers, and I'm sure throws up more for two hours. At some point I have to let him in, because we have neighbors, and they aren't incredibly fond of a beagle bay that can be heard for five blocks. Once inside he immediately throws up on the carpet I just cleaned.
Bed time comes and I cover the bottom of my bed and the floor in my room with old towels and blankets, which I figure will be much easier to clean than carpet. But now, Richie's dog has decided he needs to go outside, urgently, every time I drift off to sleep which sums up about 17 times. Finally I give up and move to the couch, because it is closer to the back door. While waiting for him to come back in at around 4 a.m. I Google chocolate+dogs. You may already know this but all the top links have an equation something like this; chocolate+dogs=death. Death chances are increased when the chocolate is semi sweet (mine was) and European. I'm horrible at geography, but I'm guessing Swedish chocolate falls somewhere in that category.
So now I panic. Richie is on a mission trip in Spain (where they probably also sell lethal chocolate) and I'm sitting here on the couch praying that God won't let anything happen to our family's first baby while I anxiously await 7 a.m., the time our vet opens.
I already feel the tears of embarrassment welling in my eyes as I have to explain to the vet why my dog (who is allergic to everything, including dog food) just ate two jumbo sized IKEA dark chocolate bars.
I've literally been up all night, and I see no sense in trying to sleep for the next 31 minutes so I blog.
I have no profound wisdom from this post, and I realize, other than Anna being able to tell her teacher "the dog threw up on my homework" this post lacks the humor and wit I usually bring. But I just needed someone else out there to feel my pain, stupidity, and exhaustion, and if you read this far, I'm guessing you either love animals or me, so say a little prayer that Richie's dog and I both make it to 7 a.m. and that in some miraculous way, IKEA chocolate is beagle friendly.