Zoie came dangerously close to entering that great dog house in the sky today.
We have been having some ant issues (due to the all the rain) so Mr. Tonks and I placed a couple baits outside- one behind a large, potted plant and one on the outside ledge of the kitchen window.
I let our Wonder Mutt outside this morning and after several minutes I realized she was being unusually quiet and well-behaved* so I went out to check on her. I found our tiny dog happily munching on the ant trap that had, apparently, fallen off the windowsill.
I called the vet whose receptionist called to his assistant who uttered a very discouraging, "Oh God. Oh no. She needs to get here now."
En route the necessary phone calls were made (Mr. Tonks, my parents**), prayers were uttered, truthful explanations were given to four-year old JP who knew something was up and I experienced my first nosebleed which I blame on stress and humidity.
Long story, slightly short, Zoie didn't actually get to the bait inside the trap and she lives. Hooray! My gross little dog drives me crazy. I threaten, a lot, to strangle her, ship her to A White Bear, etc. but I love her almost as much as I love my kids.
I'm relieved beyond words. The ant traps are gone. The dog is alive. All is well.
*Zoie is a total butt outside. She eats sticks, rolls in unidentifiable stuff on the ground and barks at every damn thing she sees/ hears/ or smells.
**My parents were called to come pick-up the kids because I feared Zoie was a goner and I didn't want them to see that.
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