A panic arises in the house. A chunk of a plastic chew toy is missing, and there is concern that Bosco might have swallowed it. The piece is both sizable and pointy, something that would prove difficult to even a larger dog's digestive system. Since it is late at night, a conversation develops whether anyone wants to spend the night awake taking Bosco to an emergency veterinarian hospital when we cannot even verify whether Bosco ate the toy in the first place.
Shea, whose love for Bosco matches the epic proportions of Romeo & Juliet but without the mass suicide... as yet, is not content to sit back and do nothing. He suggests calling the vet for advice, Amber assures him that there's not a hotline to ask about such matters for canines. When Shea contends that they probably have such things for humans, Amber responds that that's exactly the problem - Bosco's not a human.
"All right, then," Shea says earnestly. "Here's how will find out what to do: We'll call [the HMO] and tell them that I swallowed the toy and see what they tell me to do."
Finally, a plan! A hilariously flawed plan, but a plan nonetheless. Shea's a keeper. If he were to have actually swallowed the toy, I would not hesitate to run him to the emergency room.
(Bosco is fine by the way. The even smaller Darby is the culprit as evidenced by his infrequent, blue bowel movements. What a trooper.)
2007-03-27
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