So many exciting items to discuss.
This past weekend, my garbage disposal of a dog ate an entire corn on the cob. My dog at home likes to chew on corn cobs and just kind of plays with them and then leaves them once she's bored with it. I somehow forgot that Abby does not really have a filter about what she should consume, and I gave Abby a corn cob, thinking she would do the same. 10 seconds later, she was staring at me, empty paw-ed, and looking very pleased with herself. I could not believe she ate the whole thing! I thought it might be bad for dogs, and started to panic a little bit. It was late on a Friday night, so I called an emergency vet in San Antonio and asked what I should do. The woman on the phone told me that Abby was doomed for certain death, and if I didn't bring her in rightthatveryinstant, she would die and I would be completely responsible. At this point, I decided to do the only logical thing: cry hysterically and sob to my husband that I killed our dog. Cary, the rational one in our relationship, decided that since Abby was currently vigorously chasing her tail on the rug and looking very healthy for a dog on the verge of death, we should probably just wait until the morning. He promised to wake up every 2 hours to check on her and make sure she was still alive. (Isn't he the nicest?) The next morning, I called another vet, and this vet told me that a dog of Abby's breed and size could probably eat a Mack Truck and be alright (she may not have used those exact words, but that was her sentiment). She then instructed me to inspect Abby's #2 for the next 2 days to make sure it was normal. Have worse instructions ever been given over the phone? After 2 days of dutifully (get it?) following the vet's orders, Abby appears to be in the clear and seems to have very little knowledge that she escaped the clutches of death. She continues to eat anything that looks like it might possibly be edible and I'm so happy that she's alright. I love that dummy.
And I learned a life lesson. Emergency vet clinics love to tell you that your dog is facing certain death and the only thing you can do is come in for an emergency transplant of your money into their business.
I fit into some shorts I haven't worn since like my junior year of high school. Yes please.
Cary finished formation flying! Phew. He is going on his cross-country trip this weekend and continues to cruise right along! Love that goober.
Haagen Dazs White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle ice cream. Oh. My. Goodness. Go try it. And thank me. Or possibly hate me.
I'm leaving tomorrow for FLORIDA! Only 13 more minutes of work and then I am freeeeee for 2 1/2 weeks! I bought these plane tickets back when I thought I would be spending my summer watching Army Wives on netflix and bothering my dog, and I feel kind of bad about taking off for vacation after only working here for a month, but actually, it turns out I don't feel that bad after all and I'm just super excited about seeing my fam and being at the beach. And eating. I love being on vacation. All of my usual dietary restrictions fall to the wayside. Only one dessert per week? Pfffff more like only one dessert per meal. Including breakfast. I just wish my hubs could come. I stocked the freezer with food for him so he wouldn't eat corn dogs and cereal the whole time I'm gone. But if any of my Del Rio friends feel like inviting a lonely Care Bear over for dinner on a Sunday, I'm sure he would appreciate it :)
I probably won't blog whilst I'm gone, which I'm sure you all are terribly upset about. Be strong.
See ya'll in 2 1/2 weeks, at which point I will probably be tan, relaxed, and 10 lbs heavier.