Getting personal with the vet tech...

Without getting into the details, there was a miscommunication between Molly’s parents that led to her getting fed a few hours late yesterday. Left to her own devices (and cooped up in a bathroom for two hours too long), the mischievous Peekapoo discovered the trashcan in the corner.
SJ’s advice to me when we first got the puppy was, “Tuck in the shower curtain, keep the toilet seat down… oh, you know what to do…” For a while, we did. We kept the can outside the bathroom (nothing says “welcome to our humble abode” like trash in the living room) and vigilantly tucked in the shower curtain, put down the toilet seat (actually, one member of our household has always done this while the PH is still acclimating to it) and made sure all towels were hung out of the reach of our tiny terror.
But, with time, we slacked off on puppy-proofing the room and had no problems. Until yesterday. I came home to a dog that very clearly needed a few moments in the field out back… and a bathroom of strewn garbage. Again, without going into detail, I will only say that it involved a lot of torn tissue, a few wrappers… and a possible missing feminine product.
A panicked call to the vet later (what kind of tampons I use is probably now part of Molly’s medical records!), we were able to relax. The very nice vet tech explained that a dog of Molly’s size probably wouldn’t be able to ingest the thing whole in one gulp and had chewed it into tiny bits before swallowing it. Well, thank goodness for that! In any case, we were told to keep an eye on her and to never, ever let it happen again (just kidding about that second part, but I would have accepted a good scolding since I was beating myself up about it anyway). In any case, the puppy was as energetic as ever and it seems that it was a false alarm.
I don’t relish the idea of ever having to inventory my garbage again, so, if you come for a visit, please throw out your tissues in the living room.