Berkshire Road
01-27-2008, 06:02 PM
So this evening, I asked my husband to change my fentanyl patch. When he looked at my back, it wasn't there. We had no idea what happened to it, but I knew I had it on last night bc. it was irritating me. So we tore apart the bedroom and bathroom looking for the damn thing. It did not help that the patch is clear, and small. But I was in complete terror because my dog Rusty spends most of his time in my bedroom, and he does kind of poke around. Once he ate an acrylic fingernail! But Jack found it finally under one of the drawers which are under the bed.
I was so very frightened because Rusty is my particular dog, and if he ate it, it would be fatal. I cried with relief when we found it and flushed it down the toilet.
And this was just two days after the dogs (very, very naughty!) grabbed an entire batch of chocolate chip cookies off the table when no one was home. Of course chocolate is toxic for dogs, and although we're pretty sure this was not a fatal dose, still poor Jack was running to the all night drug store to get syrup of ipicac to make them puke, then we had to confine them and wait for them to puke, then give them activated charcoal.
I am going to tell you, I was nearly as upset about these dangers to the dogs as I would be if something like that happened to my kids.
So it was not the most peaceful homecoming (I had just had to travel on very little notice and on crappy flights for the funeral of my Tante Lenore, and just got in very early Friday morning -- it was meant to be Thursday evening, but what can you do?). Anyway, all is well now, thank God.
I was so very frightened because Rusty is my particular dog, and if he ate it, it would be fatal. I cried with relief when we found it and flushed it down the toilet.
And this was just two days after the dogs (very, very naughty!) grabbed an entire batch of chocolate chip cookies off the table when no one was home. Of course chocolate is toxic for dogs, and although we're pretty sure this was not a fatal dose, still poor Jack was running to the all night drug store to get syrup of ipicac to make them puke, then we had to confine them and wait for them to puke, then give them activated charcoal.
I am going to tell you, I was nearly as upset about these dangers to the dogs as I would be if something like that happened to my kids.
So it was not the most peaceful homecoming (I had just had to travel on very little notice and on crappy flights for the funeral of my Tante Lenore, and just got in very early Friday morning -- it was meant to be Thursday evening, but what can you do?). Anyway, all is well now, thank God.