Vegas is readjusting to life back at home. She just returned from two weeks at her grandparents' house where she frolicked in the woods, went swimming, and napped on the deck. It must have been fun because she is entirely bummed to be home. We call her, and she ignores us. I hold out treats, and she looks away. I finally resorted to giving her peanut butter toast to try to win her back, but when I ran out, she went across the room to sleep. So, this is what we get for our undying devotion? For the big bucks we spend on cool toys and flavored chewies?
We were relieved (kind of) to find out that there might be a reason for her behavior. On our way to Easter dinner, Matt's dad nonchalantly said, "Oh yeah. Guys, don't be surprised if Vegas gets sick. She ate a squirrel."
Great.
I don't even like squirrels running around my yard, so I can definitely live without seeing one regurgitated on my rug.
Each time we left her alone after that, I was scared we'd come back to find something insanely disgusting. We didn't. We were lucky. Though a few weeks ago she seemed to get sick for no reason at all, she now has a stomach of steel. Phew.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment