‘What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men …… That is what love looks like.’ - St. Augustine

Monday, January 19, 2009

For Canine Use Only

I was in my room when I heard Anastasia screaming at the top of her lungs. It was that frantic, ear-piercing terrify-your-mother-why don't-you kind of screaming.

'YOU CAN'T EAT THAT! YOU'RE NOT A CANINE!'


She was bent over our little sheltie dog, hands shaking the poor thing like there was no tomorrow. Then she swiftly lifts her up in an attempt to perform what looked like a modified Heimlich Maneuver for dogs. Matilda's eyes  search out mine and plead for me to intervene.


'Honey, why are you yelling at Matilda? Please put her down.'
I demand.

'NO MOM! SHE ATE MEDICINE FOR CANINES ONLY! SHE'S GONNA DIE!' Anastasia continues to attempt the Heimlich as I try to gently extricate Matilda from her arms.

'Honey, what are you talking about?'  I'm confused. I now hold a traumatized furball in my arms.

'LOOOOK!!!' My daughter thrusts a chewed open heartworm med capsule into my face. 'SHE ATE IT ALREADY SO WE HAVE TO GET HER TO THE HOSPITAL NOW!

'Honey. it's okay that she ate that. It's her heartworm medication.'

'NO MOM! SHE'S NOT A CANINE, SHE'S A SHELTIE! SHE'S GONNA DIE!!!'

My daughter falls to the floor in a flood of tears and grief-stricken moaning. I put the dog down and try to comfort her.

'Honey, it's okay. Canine is just another word for dog. This is medicine for a dog. All dogs take it. She's not going to die. She is really ok.' (Well, Matilda might beg to differ. She has already run for her life and hidden herself under my bed at this point.) I rub my daughter's back. I try to soothe her.

The news starts to sink in for my little drama queen. She finally stands up and walks over to the empty single medication capsule on the floor. She reads it slowly, mouthing out the words. Then, she throws the thing with great gusto across the room.

'STUPID, STUPID IDIOTS! WHY did they put that STUPID SCARY MESSAGE on the box?'

Yes, honey, why did they put 'for canine use only' on the box? Shame on them.

Twenty minutes later I find her cuddling/coddling poor Matilda in a tight semi-chokehold of blankets in her bed. She is stroking her and speaking in hushed, motherly tones.

'I'm sooooo sorry you almost died, Honey...soooo sorry. That will NEVER happen again, honey...never ever.....'


Matilda looks up at me with a look of plaintive desperation: Help? 



Poor thing.

Does the drama NEVER end?

6 comments:

  1. OM!!! I'm still lol'ing!!!! Your daughter is the BEST!!! Jupiter would expect a personalized message too...

    hope you got a little sleep, btw :).

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  2. This made me laugh. jeNN

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  3. Bless her, she eas clearly worried. Totally sweet too. I have to be honest though and say i'd've laughrd too! Poor Anastasia xXx

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  4. Anonymous11:22 AM

    Hi...This is my first comment to you. I'm not a blogger myself, but reading what others write. I have enjoyed your blog, and just wanted to say "hi". This post was so cute...I can just imagine how scared Anastasia was when she thought her dog had poisoned itself! Thanks for sharing your journey with us.
    Vicki

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  5. Though my eldest is seven,and a boy, I can certainly relate to this!
    And mine's that loud, too, by the way.

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