Things used to be so different. Our firstborn, Davis, used to be our number one subject, the star of so many stories, the butt of so many jokes, the object of so much attention. He did so many memorable things in that murky pre-child life... fetch beers, swallow underwear, consume 35 pounds of kibble in one sitting, rip bathing suits, chew shoes, tear into boxes of microwave popcorn.
But lately, his comings and goings haven't garnered as much interest as the pesky kids who now require that we go to the kid park, not the dog park. They stampede around, tug his tail, jump on his back, and "walk" him around the house, but the minute he wants to engage in a friendly game of keep-away with Superman or the football, he's somehow the enemy. And don't even get him started on the food scraps... one minute he's a hero for serving as the thrice-daily vacuum, and the next, he's banished to the dog run for going the extra mile and making sure dangling food doesn't even touch the floor.
Well, Davis decided to take matters into his own hands on Friday evening, and became the star of the show once more. What was supposed to be a relaxing end-of-the-work-week family picnic (ice-cold beers included!) turned into an old-school Davis anecdote when he snatched an entire chicken drumstick out of Joey's hand and inhaled it one gulp, in the way only a Lab can.
Unfortunately - or fortunately - we've been to this rodeo before. We packed up and tore down the freeway to the nearest after-hours vet clinic, where Davis promptly got his stomach pumped. The stubborn drumstick didn't come back up, so we have our fingers crossed that it will navigate through Davis' steel system safely over the next day or two.
In the meantime, Davis is relishing his moment in the sun once again.
2 comments:
I think we call that "a cry for help"
Davis might call it "just desserts".
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