So, I got a puppy! Last April… Which I guess makes her more dog sized right now, but most certainly puppy brained, or possibly retarded. It’s hard to say. But either way, I love her dearly and she lights up my life!
Today she is lighting up my life at work! I don’t normally bring her in, I much prefer to ride my bike home at lunch, take her for a nice walk and eat apple cinnamon cheerios while watching half an episode of Boy Meets World. Yes, I am living the dream, people. But today sadly, is different. Today’s dream includes my poor puppy being, well, sick as a dog.
Sprinkles (that’s what I call her, because that’s what I named her, though she’ll answer to PastaBatman, Wiggles, Sprunkles, or Jerkface) is a destructo dog. And by that I mean, she likes to chew things until they are no more. Most dogs just chew and destroy, leaving the majority of their victim behind. My sister’s dog is the same. Apparently though, a percentage of the chewed items are swallowed. In Sprinkles’s case that percentage would be 100. Now I’m not sure what makes plastic, rubber and towels so delicious, but clearly she sees something in those materials that others do not. In an effort to make sure the majority of her diet is dog food, rather than rubber, I buy her toys that are marked CAN NOT BE DESTROYED EVER, which for the most part is true. These toys are obviously less fun and more frustrating for her because she can’t ingest their tasty parts. Sucks to be you Sprinkles.
Unfortunately my sympathy got the better of my judgment, and three days ago I left her alone with a non non-destructable toy while I had a shower. This toy was a bright orange ball with green noblies all round it and a bell in the centre. It looks like a toy made for alien babies. Anyway, I figured she wouldn’t get very far in destroying it, but oh was I wrong. I came back and all of it was gone, except for a quarter-sized orange bit with a green nobly. She ate the bell too. Visions of the crocodile from Peter Pan, you know the one that swallowed the clock, danced in my head. Sigh.
A couple days went by and Sprinkles was fine, and didn’t ring, or ding-a-ling at all! I thought I was in the clear. That was until she got into the cat litter. Apparently her delicate stomach can handle toys, or cat litter, but not both. Anyway, I’ll save you from the gory details, but let’s just say I have been taking her outside every two hours so she can expel (from various ends of her body) many, many orange pieces of plastic, balls of cat hair, and whatever else made it into her sad, sad belly.
So come to work with me she has! Upon arrival I decided to build her a cozy fort out of Staples boxes, CD boxes and a towel! This fort will not only make her feel more at home, but keep her from joyously attacking my coworkers every time they move, or laugh, or breathe, or accidentally look at her. You see Sprinkles is kind of like a drunk desperate frat boy at last call. If you accidentally make eye contact, she’s making out with you, without even having the decencey to buy you a drink. And just like the frat boy, today she has the added bonus of dog barf breath. Which is charming and delightful!
She seems in good spirits though, so I think she’ll be just fine, in spite of my dumbass decision.
Yup, clearly, no more non non-destroyable toys for this one.