…actually, this morning she ate an ant bait spike that I had put out last night under the peonies (the ones she didn’t eat yet – did I mention she ATE one of my peonies earlier this spring? No? Sorry about that…). After my first run to Agway today, I came home to see her trotting around with a green spiky thing in her mouth. I called the vet and he said to bring her in. Great.
When I called later in the day to make sure she pulled through the stomach pumping so I could kill her, the vet said that she vomited up assorted sticks, twigs, grass, bits of plastic (!) and…ant poison. He also said it was a good thing I brought her in when I did…blah blah blah. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy she’s okay (upstairs sleeping with Dobby as I type this, even though at this point I’d rather lock her in her crate for the rest of her natural life) and I’m glad I brought her to the vet. I’d be HAPPIER if she weren’t a walking garbage disposal whose sole purpose in life appears to be to eat everything in her path. I’d be HAPPIER if she hadn’t eaten the damned thing in the first place.
I’d be freaking ecstatic if the cost of the emergency vet visit and stomach pumping wasn’t the exact same amount as the *bleeping* stimulus check that just happened to arrive in the mail today.