Our friends Mandy and Jenni had Olivia and me over for dinner this evening. Dinner was delicious and Olivia played and crawled and climbed and hammed it up for the camera until it was her bedtime. Great time, good friends, good food, I love evenings like this.
But when we came home I found an empty bag of chocolate chips on the floor. (Riley counter-surfs when we leave her home alone, and this time she'd hit the jackpot.) At first I wasn't too worried because she was acting normal, so I put Olivia in jammies and made a bottle. But then I could hear Pat Czaikowski's voice in my head saying, "Chocolate can kill dogs," so I googled it and calculated that 24 ounces of semisweet chocolate is indeed toxic for a 52-lb dog. So I called the animal hospital and they instructed me to give her hydrogen peroxide to induce vomiting, then afterward bring her in. Except we have no H2O2. And I had a hungry, sleepy, screaming baby to care for. And Steve is in Sweden. So I called Mandy and Jenni (who live 2 minutes away) and immediately switched into "Mah Bay-Bay! Mode" to the extent that I couldn't understand myself and I don't even know which one I spoke to. Mandy came over in a heartbeat (bless that heart) to calm me down and help with Olivia, and I took Riley to the emergency clinic. To skip over the chocolate-scented story details, she is going to be okay. I love this dog, she is very much our firstborn, and it breaks my heart that I did something so foolish that could have really hurt her. Lesson learned!
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