When I was young, we had a dog named Chelsea. She was a beautiful white American Eskimo Spitz and was my parents first “baby”. Chelsea lived to be 24 in human years, which, lets face it, was more than any human expected to commit to any pet, even one that is loved. Throughout those years, Chelsea gifted our family a lot of grief, loyalty and love, but most of all.. some really important pet raising advice. When in doubt, wing it.
Follow me now for a funny tale of my own little family and our own furry friend charmingly named, The Artful Dodger.
Munch and Dodger are best friends, lets face it, nothing shows more love than a boy and his dog.
The week after we moved to Arizona, our house hold goods finally arrived and then a figurative tornado overtook our family. Control and #parentinggoals seemed to fall out the window. Wreck it Ralph, Daniel Tiger and Curious George were left to raise my child. Judge all you want, but I ask you.. have you ever unpacked a house with a gremlin set on destroying everything in site and climbing brown boxes to try and touch the ceiling just to get satisfaction from seeing the color leave your face? The quote from Finding Nemo comes to mind “He touched the butt”. #truestory.
Meanwhile, Dodger either was suffering from extreme depression.. or licked an Arizona toad because he became.. well.. as sick as a dog. The poor guy couldn’t keep food and water down, and we were trembling in fear of those vet bills (especially high due to the lack of proper vets in our area and access due to the 4th of July weekend.) and our poor pups mortality (apparently those monsoon toads are no joke!)
What to do , what to do?!
My bleeding heart hurt for the creature I had become so fond of. There really was nothing we could do but wait it out.
Then it hit me. A folk lore fairy tale that my mom told me about back when I was a wee little tyke climbing for my own ceilings. A story about how Chelsea was sick one day as a pup from eating something bad and my poor parents (literally and figuratively) couldn’t take her to a vet. My Asian grandmother (Poh Poh) told them simply “Give her the pink stuff” (The humans go to hangover remedy. Pepto bismol).
Rolling their eyes, they dismissed the wise woman’s words, headed to the vet, and spent an arm and a leg… for the vet to give the dog…. thats right, the pink stuff.
So, now with my poor pup looking at me with pathetic eyes after fasting for over 24 hours…. I forced some pink stuff down his throat and VWALA. Miraculous recovery!
*Insert scene from The Princess Bride here*
Sure I googled it first, and found that its a common practice and was NOT going to poison him before hand, but heck, since when do we question the words of the wise?
Either way, the dog is alive and happier now. Though at the time, I thought I was about to have pink stains all over my new house.
End of story.
We then spent a wonderful time exploring some of the more green and less desert-y parts of Arizona. It turned into a beautiful spontaneous adventure.
Cheers from the crazy house!
❤ Mama Cat