a VERY Bad Pug

Once upon a time Frank's grandmother sent his father and I a lovely and thoughtful package. His dad brought it in and left it on the floor, and here is what I found upon my return from a very, very, long day at work:

Oh my.

AND...chewed plastic baggies.

It seems that Grandma Railey had mailed a dozen homemade chocolate chip cookies for Frank's dad's birthday.

Frank, of course, assumed that they were for him.

12 Chocolate Chip Cookies + 1 Small Pug + maybe some plastic baggie bits and cardboard =
bad. Very, very, bad.

It was pretty clear from the way Frank looked that at this point he might actually agree with the above equation.

That's right Frank. I BET it is hard to hold a curl in your tail.

Oh my, someone did not feel well at all. Have no fear, however, I have the delightful pleasure of having a friend who we MOST enjoy, and who also happens to be a veterinary technician, and who also happened to be at work just a bit up the road. She arrived with some syringes of fresh hydrogen peroxide, which were force fed to a rather less than enthusiastic pug. I dug the shower curtain that I had just tossed out the door (what fortuitous timing!) up for "collection", and we had a less than elegant, though somewhat satisfying, half hour of watching the chocolate chippers re-emerge. (Don't use the hydrogen peroxide technique unless specifically being told what to do by your veterinarian or lovely veterinary technician).

Oh Frank, what a very bad pug indeed.

(Fear not, however! Frank was back to begging by the time the dinner hour crept around, and is currently snoozing, happy as a clam, in the middle of the bed.)