Coulda-Bin Calamity (The Tortellini Affair)

Picture this:
Bruce corralled in the dog pen. Healthy dog confined in the powder room. Sick dog thrashing about like a suffocating fish. Me holding onto sick dog's snout with both hands to keep medication in her mouth. Healthy dog slips out of confinement and snarfs remaining med-laced treats out of bowl. Me frantic, calling the emergency number at the animal hospital.

*ring.ring* "Hello?"

"Yes, my healthy dog just swallowed medication intended for my sick dog. Do I need to pump her stomach?"

[Snip a few seconds of conversation where I detail the name and dosage of meds, describe the tasty tortellini in which it was disguised, and the visual imagery above.]

*audible giggles* Ahem, I don't think it will do her any harm. Let me put you on hold while I double check to be sure."

*pregnant pause* (during which time I'm convinced the doctor is laughing hysterically.)

"Hello? Yes, your dog will be fine. That amount of the drug will not harm her. Just be sure to steer clear of contagious areas for the remainder of the day. I wouldn't take her to the dog park, for instance, since her immune system will be a bit suppressed."

"Thank you, doctor. Goodbye"

This is the crowning event of a morning spent trying to force-feed Julie, my sick dog, her meds.

At 5:00 p.m. we take Julie in for more bloodwork. In my little corner of the world it is snowing, with a layer of rain turning to ice on top of the snow. Businesses are shutting down right and left due to "bad weather" and people are fighting traffic on the "bad roads" to get home.

In reality the weather is not bad at all. It's actually quite picturesque. But because of all the over-stressed, maniacal drivers that can't fathom slowing down for a fraction of a second, it is not the optimal driving situation to take your pet or your family out in. But we desperately need the information this PCV test will provide so we can discuss next steps. So we go.

Please God, let there be an improvement in the red blood cell count.