How I almost killed my dog… again.

So you may remember that Harley the Wonder Schnoodle had a near-death experience back in November. I came home from church to find that he had gotten into my trash and eaten a few scoops of coffee grounds. Turns out that coffee is one of the deadliest people foods known to dogs. Waaaay worse than chocolate.
So $600, an overnight stay at the puppy hospital, and a good stomach pumping later (plus many tears and some minor hyperventilating on my part), Harley the Wonder Schnoodle was back to his old self. Unfortunately, he didn’t learn his lesson.
And neither did I. I’ve been so good at keeping the door to my kitchen pantry closed. Every time he starts sniffing around the trash I threaten him with a, “If you think I’m going to spend another $600 to pump your stomach if you get in this trash, you’ve clearly mistaken, mister! This time you’re on your own!” And then he gives me that guilty, knowing look of acknowledgement with those sad brown eyes. I mean, surely he understands me… right?
Unfortunately, no. Last night I walked in the door of my house to find trash everywhere. In my kitchen…
In my office…
In my living room…
In my dining room…
And of course, there were a week’s worth of coffee beans in that trash can.
My first reaction was simply to lay my head on my counter, close my eyes, and say, “No. Please no. Not again. I’m having friends over for dinner in a few minutes… this can’t happen now.”
And then I called my vet, hoisted Harley in my car and drove him, crying all the way (me, not him) to the animal hospital 30 minutes from my house. Along the way, I managed to somehow spill a glass of water in my lap. And my cell phone died. I would have charged it but I dropped my car charger in a cup of milk last week. When I finally carried Harley into the animal hospital (with no collar, no leash… I had forgotten both), I had tears streaming down my face, mascara smudged, and a giant wet spot on my skirt (definitely looked like either Harley or I had had an accident). Probably not my finest moment.
The people at my animal hospital are saints. They never once scolded me when I told them we’d been in just two months before for the same exact reason. Nobody judged me for my wet lap. Nobody looked at me funny when my eyes almost swelled shut after I had an allergic reaction to all the dog/cat hair in the tiny exam room. The vet saw us immediately, and we were in and out in less than 30 minutes. And this time for only $200. Turns out a little bit of induced vomiting and some IV fluids and the Wonder Schnoodle was a new dog. And we know that this time the culprit wasn’t coffee, but ham, which can cause pancreatitis in dogs. I’m learning so much these days.
Once I got Harley safely home, and I knew he wasn’t going to die, the dog got a good scolding. You can see where he hides when he’s trying to avoid a spanking.
And you’ll be pleased to know that I’m now the proud owner of a $100 heavy-duty steel trash can (with lid) that is impossible for a 20-pound schnoodle to knock over. At least, I hope.

Hodge Podge Blog

Just a few random updates…

1. My car has been in the shop for 24 days and $2400. Today my dad came and picked her up, and we were scheduled to trade cars back tonight… but she broke again. The mechanic had said, “Be sure to watch for such-and-such, if that happens, it’s a very bad sign.” Well, as luck would have it, such-and-such happened. So back she goes to the  mechanic tomorrow, and I will cross my fingers that the next fix doesn’t cost too much more. I’m trying to maintain my sense of humor, but it’s definitely a challenge.
In the meantime, I’m swearing off pedicures until I save for a new car. I hope you will continue to be my friend even if I have horrible hobbit feet.
2. I’m sick again. My allergies have been absolutely horrible. So have Harley the Wonder Schnoodle’s. As I’ve said before, we’re allergic to the same thing, and both of us are teetering on the edge of allergy misery this week. No time to be sick, so we’re going to continue to dope up on allergy meds and hope for the best. Makes the head a bit cloudy though.
Luckily the cloudy head keeps me from focusing on my car.
3. My professor decided to double the length of my paper due next week, on a whim. Hate is a strong word for this situation. But incredible frustration, extreme annoyance, and flabbergastedness (if it were a word) might suffice. There goes my weekend plans. Oh wait, I have to work Saturday anyway. And read three books in the next week or so. No big deal.
4. I have the blog of all blogs floating in my head… you may have seen the pictures from Facebook of my little country adventure, but it’s definitely a story that deserves its own blog. I mean, we caught armadillos on a ranch in the middle of the night while I pranced through a cow pasture in my red high heels and a cocktail dress. My joyride in that ’71 lime green convertible was one of my most memorable nights in years.
But these allergy meds are clouding my head, which greatly diminishes my ability to be witty. So the lime green convertible story will have to wait until the pollen count drops a little.

Just one more

How many schnoodles can I have before I become the canine equivalent of the crazy cat lady?

It may be fate… a dog named Finn… just like one of my favorite Mark Twain boys, or Finny from A Separate Peace. This adorable little Schnoodle (the little guy on the bottom left of this photo) was rescued by an old college friend, and she can’t find his owner. He’s probably about a year old, completely potty trained, and quite cuddly. And he needs a good home. 
I don’t need another dog. Harley and I have done quite well together over the past seven years. But this little ball of fur and indiscretion is just so darn cute that I may not be able to say no.  What do you think?

Dog lovers rejoice

Today I found the owner of the stray dog. Turns out the dog’s name is Levi and he lives one neighborhood away. I was able to track his owner down thanks to my neighborhood’s online message board (yea for modern technology!) and Levi was reunited with his family before lunch. So Harley the Wonder Schnoodle continues to be an only child, and I am still a long way from being the crazy dog lady.

Tonight I went out to celebrate (almost) the end of semester #5 with my classmates and my professor. As much as this class has worn me out, I have really enjoyed the other girls in the class, and my professor is fantastic. We went to a neat hole-in-the-wall for dinner, margaritas (them) and Diet Coke (me). We had so much fun that we’ve decided to do it again in July, just so we can stay in touch. Having cool people in my class makes all the late evenings and homework a lot more bearable. And, I talked to my professor about a possible PAID assistantship! If I can get my class paid for, that means I can spend that other money on stuff for my house or trips to Europe! Yipee! We’ll see if it works out… One class costs me $2700, which would buy an AWESOME two weeks abroad! Or, a new dining room set!

Maybe I should get a new dog

There’s this sad little stray dog living next door. He has no collar, but he was obviously well-loved and cared for, we just don’t know where he belongs. He hung around the house all day. He’s a little mutt, maybe 25 pounds. In fact, he looks kind of like Harley the Wonder Schnoodle, only with shorter hair. I’m tempted to adopt him, but I know that having two dogs is a bit excessive. One is manageable. One is easy to love. Two is a burden. Besides, if I ever marry a man with a dog, then I would have THREE dogs and suddenly I would be the dog lady with the smelly house. I just can’t have that.

But those sad eyes…

Oops, he did it again

He did it again. Harley the Wonder Schnoodle pooped on his ball. He’s obsessed with this ratty, half-chewed tennis ball that he carries around with him all the time. He even sleeps with this ball. It’s his prized possession.

Which is why I don’t know why he wasn’t more careful to not poop on it (while outside… I felt the need to clarify). Seriously. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever done this. It’s probably the fifth. So now yet another ball had to be tossed in the garbage, never to be seen again. And Harley knows exactly where it is, which is why for the next week, he’s going to cry at my back door, begging me to let him go retrieve it from the can in the garage.

Men. I just don’t get them. If Harley were a girl, I guarantee you the ball would still be here.