Smith Family Weblog

I arrived home to a frantic scene at 5:15 last night: Ava’s found a package of rat poison in the back yard; the obvious conclusion is that August has eaten it, and he is about to die. Ava and Olivia are hysterical. I’m hysterical. August is lounging in relative oblivion on the kitchen floor.

I call the vet (who we had seen a mere 90 minutes before due to a broken tooth). The vet asks for specifics regarding the poison, then says we have to induce vomiting(!) with hydrogen peroxide. It takes 10 minutes and a knee injury to get two tablespoons in to this 85-pound dog who has ABSOLUTELY NO INTEREST in vomiting, and as a result, will probably have pretty significant trust issues the rest of his puppyhood. I reload the dropper, and leave it on the table as I head up the steps to clean up after him. (Hydrogen peroxide, as it turns out, is quick and effective.)

August pukes twice; I puke once as I comb through it looking for blue/green rat poison pellets. Ava and Olivia are wracked with screaming sobs, and I continue to dry heave. In the midst of everything, Bryan and Owen arrive, and Owen immediately ingests the remaining hydrogen peroxide he found in the dropper on the table. Chaos ensues.

(Everything is fine now; we didn’t find any evidence of pellets, and Bryan believes he put the package under the deck many years ago so it was likely empty anyway. Remarkably, Owen didn’t throw up, and the girls and I eventually calmed down. August seemed confounded about the whole thing.)