Warning: the following post contains graphic details and may not be suitable for sensitive readers!

Our dogs Tallis and Chloe got sick the week we were going to leave for Princeton, NJ to be with my family for Christmas. I was on my way to work when Colin called to spread the glad tidings that the dogs had bloody diarrhea. If you’ve been reading along, you may recall that our dogs frequently manage to escape. Whenever I finally catch up to them, they are always greedily chowing down on poop as if they were dining on perfectly executed filet mignon. As you might imagine, this invariably has messy and unpleasant consequences. I could only assume that this was again the source of their gastric distress.

I believe this is what is known in common parlance as a “sh*t-eating grin.”

Cute, but rotten (the dog, not the boy)!

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& complete caption)

I happened to be close to our vet’s office so I stopped in to make sure they could fit Tallis and Chloe into their schedule before immediately driving back home to pick them up to bring them to the vet. When I arrived at the office again with my two poop-eating dogs in tow, the receptionist presented me with two identical estimates to sign. The totals didn’t include the bordatella shots they would have to have because they would be boarded all day, or the Lyme Disease vaccine they both needed. The conservative estimate came to $800. All day at work I kept getting calls from the vet saying that they would have to get yet another x-ray. I was fairly sure when I left my office to pick up the dogs at the end of the day that the total would be closer to $1000. I’m betting there are few who’ve ever paid that kind of money for a filet mignon in the finest restaurant. (I apologize if I have forever ruined filet mignon for any carnivores out there)!

When I arrived, the vet tech brought the dogs out and one of them immediately peed on the floor. I picked them both up so as to forestall any further incidents of this nature and prepared to pay up and leave. The vet came out to the lobby and asked me to come back to have a look at the x-rays. It was the end of a long day. With a dog under each arm and the sure knowledge that I would be forking over a grand for their misdeeds, I wasn’t particularly in the mood to look and so I said wearily, “That’s o.k., I really don’t care.” He looked completely crestfallen, but he didn’t give up. “But I already have them up for you. Come on back, it will only take a minute,” he coaxed. I trudged to the back room where he had the x-rays on a screen. With real professional zeal, he pointed out all the salient bits and then gave me instructions for the special food and medicine the dogs would be on for the following week.

“Well, thanks,” I said glumly as I made my way back out to the lobby.

“Oh wait! Did you see the bag?!” the vet asked.

“Bag?”

“You HAVE to see the bag!” he said excitedly and disappeared into the back room again. He emerged a moment later  triumphantly holding a plastic baggie full of gravel aloft as if it were a trophy.

“This came out of Chloe!” he announced. “We rinsed them off for you so you could see what caused the problem!”

Yes, that’s right. My dogs not only eat poop, they eat rocks too. GENIUSES, these dogs.

The good news is that the total came to a mere $600! I practically danced an Irish Jig when I saw the bill. When I got home and Colin asked how much it had all cost, I crowed “Only $600!” He blanched visibly and looked at me as if I had grown another head. I should have primed him with the previous estimate!

Come back tomorrow to read the incredible story of how I discovered that the dogs really ARE in fact geniuses.