Background: In competitive eating, when a competitor throws up, it’s called a ‘reversal of fortune,’ because well, not only does it disqualify you from the competition, but given the point of competitive eating is to eat a lot of food very quickly (and keep it down!), it really is unfortunate to throw it up.
We have had more dog ‘reversals of fortune’ here lately in the Dubowsky house than I want to admit. So many so that I don’t even know where to start in this comedy of errors…sigh.
*Author’s note: Remember the famous $168.19 sock? RJ has a penchant for socks. Keep that in mind…
Sunday
V2.0 (playing outside in the snow with the dogs, yells inside): “Mom, RJ just threw up a sock!”
Flashback to Thursday night:
Me (in a panic): “WHERE IS RJ?” <– It’s always RJ, by the way, never Ozzy.
Silence. Camera pans to:
- The Husband — playing Theme Park on his phone —
- V1.0 — nose in the iPad while floating around on her hover board —
- V2.0 — mindlessly watching TV, taking in nothing —
Me (running upstairs, screaming): “WHO LEFT THE BEDROOM DOOR OPEN!?!?”
More silence. Actually no, not silence. Not by me anyway.
Me (dragging RJ out of the Office, and back down the stairs): “GUYS, I CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE! WE ABSOLUTELY CANNOT LEAVE DOORS OPEN IN THIS HOUSE!”
The silence is broken by 2.0 asking for dinner. Wait, WHAT?!? Is that kid for real?
Me (throwing my arms up in complete exasperation): “Does anyone care? He could have eaten another sock?”
More silence.
Me: “I’M DONE!”
Crickets.
V2.0 asks for dinner again. Eff my life.
Back to Sunday
V2.0 (playing outside in the snow with the dogs, yells inside): “Mom, RJ just threw up a sock!”
Me (headed towards the back door): “DAMMIT!” (Yelling at my husband, who I am convinced is the one who left the bedroom door open a couple of days before.) “I knew he ate something two days ago!!!”
The Husband: “Well, at least he threw it up.”
Dear Husband,
You are missing the point.
Love,
Me
I open the door to our backyard and am met by 2.0.
V2.0 (pointing): “It’s right over there by the firepit.”
I glance out and see a pile of undigested kibble…and what appears to be a sock. Ozzy the food whore (can I say that on this blog?), who incidentally threw up food a few nights back, only to eat it all up while the Husband and I just stood by and watched in amazement, sprints over…to the firepit.
No.
There’s no way.
He wouldn’t.
Wait.
Noooooooooo.
He did.
Me (half crying): “Ozzy just ate RJ’s throw up – INCLUDING THE SOCK!!!!”
Is this for real? Is this really happening? I didn’t even really get the chance to be truly disgusted by Ozzy. I mean, for real? I’m gagging just typing this right now.
Luckily, being somewhat of a problem solver, and someone who always (never?) learns from their mistakes (remember again, the $168.19 sock ), I grab the Hydrogen Peroxide from the bathroom. Why pay $168.19 when I can make this reversal of fortune happen myself?! A quick Google search and I learned that it’s 1 tsp for every 10 pounds of dog. Or maybe it’s one tbsp. Hmm. Was that a small ‘t’ or a big ‘T?’
Who cares, get it down his throat!!!!!!
Let it be known that the day before we had to take the Husband to the ER because he threw his back out. Let’s just say that sloths were moving at the speed of light compared to the Husband that day.
In not-the-most-gentlest-of-ways, we poured the hydrogen peroxide down Ozzy’s throat. You could almost hear it bubble the second it hit his gullet. At this point:
dogs + hydrogen peroxide = ticking time bomb
We could not get him out the door fast enough. Did I feel bad kicking him outside to go throw up his guts? Um, no.
However, there were a few things I didn’t consider:
- Mistake #1: I put V2.0 in charge of watching over Ozzy.
- Mistake #2: I didn’t bring RJ inside.
- Mistake #3: I put V2.0 in charge of watching over Ozzy. Hmm.
V2.0 (playing outside in the snow with the dogs, yells inside): “Mom, Ozzy just threw up a sock!” (Where have I heard this before?)
Me: “Well, did you pick it up?”
V2.0: “Ew, no.”
Me (starting to panic): “Where is it?”
V2.0 (pointing to the top of the stairs in our backyard): “Right where Ozzy is…”
Me (now screaming): “GO GET IT GO GET IT GO GET IT!!! OZZY IS GOING TO EAT IT….”
…again.
You know that emoji:
Sigh.
When all was said and done, and the contents of both dogs’ stomachs was emptied, the husband turned and said to me: “Well you know, after sock-mageddon 2019, I bought laundry baskets with tops on them.”
I shook my head. He did not just say that.
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Lesson learned. I now have Hydrogen Peroxide as a Subscribe and Save item. Thank you, Amazon.