This happened the other day but I forgot to blog about it.
I was sitting on the couch, reading a book, and all the dogs were laying on the floor around me. I noticed the sound of Peter gnawing away on a bone and realized I'd been hearing it for the last hour or so. I started to think that that was a pretty long time and that I should check on him, but he was just below me on the floor and I figured he was fine. I ignored the feeling for a second, rationalizing that all was well. The feeling came again and so I listened.
I sat up and saw that his bone was pushed to the side, but he was still intensely chewing on something. I picked up his bone and saw that the end had been pulled off. I lifted up his chin and saw that a huge chunk (yet small enough to swallowed and choked on) was floating around dangerously in his mouth. I reached inside and pulled it out (much to his dismay, but to my relief).
I don't know that he would have for sure choked on it but I'm so glad I didn't have to find out.
Day 6 of 10 in listing 100 things for which I'm grateful:
Things about today (I have the flu, so this will be a little skewed):
- My heating pad
- My neck pillow
- Excedrine Migrane
- Today was a holiday day at work, so I didn't miss pay
- Peanut butter toast
- I didn't have to put on make up
- I didn't have to fix my hair
- Extra snuggles from Peter
Here's the scenario: My house is a disaster cause I've not felt well enough to clean. There're dishes in the sink, blankets all over the living room and I'm passed out on one of them. The doorbell rings and it's our landlord (also named Peter), come to fix the leaking faucet on our tub.
If you know me at all, you'll know why this is funny, and if you don't know me, you should know that I would never let someone see my house messy--let alone me dead on the couch.