Our dog Sadie, she's indestructible. I can't count how many times she probably should have died. Seriously.
But, for some reason, she cannot be hurt. It is impossible.
She is the Highlander dog (talking about the movie and not the Toyota here).
For Sadie, we have coined the phrase 'three day rule'. If she is hurt or sick, we wait three days before taking her to the vet (before anyone gets upset, we would OF COURSE take her to the vet if she were in dire need of care. DUH.). For instance, she has been scratched on the eyeball by our cats more times than I'd care to remember. She yelps, and comes whining up to B or me, one eye closed and watering. Then she'll walk around wonk eyed for maybe a day. AND THEN SHE IS FINE. Every. Single. Time.
One time, B took her up on some mountain bike trails. Suddenly he heard this crazy dog screeching in the distance. He took off to find her and she couldn't walk. She would put no weight on her front right leg.
So he's up this mountain, thinking, I'm going to have to carry this fifty pound dog down, on my shoulders, and somehow get the bike down too.
As he's working out the logistics, he notices she's limping around. Five minutes later she's back chasing forest creatures like she's on doggie crack.
Well, yesterday, I was giving G his after dinner bath (dinner is a contact sport and ALWAYS requires thorough bathing afterwards). I might add that he pooped in the tub. AGAIN. I've had to bleach out the tub and tub toys 6 out of the last ten baths. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Sadie.
So, I fish out he poop, get G cleaned and dried. Then I let him run naked out to the living room while I get his diaper and jammies.
It is when I return to the living room that I notice that a large dark chocolate bar that I had purchased that afternoon was sitting in the middle of the living room.
Let me rephrase that. The WRAPPER from the chocolate bar is sitting in the living room.
I quickly diaper the kid, because I don't need him peeing all over the living room - I'd had enough of his bodily functions for one night.
I then drop to my knees and pull open both dogs jaws to take a whiff. Who had eaten the chocolate? Whoever it was had to have stuck their snout into my barely open purse, jimmied the zipper open a bit more and pulled out the chocolate.
It was clearly Sadie (I was kind of relieved. If it was Carl, I'd be telling you that we had to drop a grand at the emergency vet). Carl is way too special needs to pull off that maneuver. Plus, her breath reeked of dog food and chocolate.
I quickly googled how much chocolate is dangerous, and found that she had not ingested nearly enough.
But then I remembered.
It was a chocolate RAISIN bar.
Did you know that raisins are highly toxic to dogs? Well, they are.
Panic attack then recommences. I called B.
He was not concerned. 'This is Sadie we're talking about. The highlander dog. We'll watch her, but I'm sure she's fine.'
And of course, he was right.
She is outside right now, being her usual pain in the ass self.
One of these days, dog, one of these days. Or maybe she'll outlive us all and we'll have to call her Duncan MacLeod.