Pre-Skeeter: Lucy and the Chocolate Factory

Lucy (1998–2011)
One of the first things I did after my early retirement due to Spinocerebellar Ataxia, was get a dog. We'd always loved dogs, especially Australian Shepherds, and still missed Samantha who died, at age 14, in 1995.  I knew I couldn't move fast enough to manage a puppy, so my criteria in choosing a suitable canine companion was that she be less than 40 lbs, less than 4 years old and definitely not a fur shedder. Elizabeth went with me to the Humane Society where Lucy and I found each other.  She weighed 55 lbs., was seven years old, and was a champion fur shedder.  Oh, well...

Lucy became my constant companion, preferring to be in any car to being left at home.  But sometimes, it was necessary.  I had to go to Northeast Portland to deliver my old laptop to a buyer.  Lake Oswego to Northeast Portland, at rush hour, is about a 30-45 minute schlep.  It was hot outside.  I decided to leave Lucy, much to her disappointment, at home.

We had an electrical short in our pantry resulting in some minor smoke damage, so I left the pantry door open to air it out.  While I was gone, Lucy went in and ate a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips. Chocolate is reputed to be lethal to dogs, but no one told Lucy. I made a panicked call to the veterinarian, induced dog vomit (yecch!) to avoid her untimely death from chocolate poisoning and incurred a $150 vet bill. My Ataxia hadn't progressed to the point where I couldn't respond to an emergency. Response was just more challenging and a lot slower. When all was resolved, it was 8 pm, my heart had been racing for two hours, Earl had to work late, so I had three glasses of wine and went to bed. The good news, I didn't cry much, the dog didn't die, and everyone, except Lucy and me, thought it was enormously funny.

Earl makes the best chocolate chip cookies.  Ask the children, grandchildren–and Lucy.  Earl thought he had pushed his latest batch far out of her reach before we went out.  That was when we learned not to underestimate the determination and reach of a chocolate–loving canine.

Lucy was also a smart, stealth dog. We were confident that she only went for chocolate when no witnesses were around. Earl and I were out somewhere and Heidi, Sarah, and Kyle came over to swim and play with the dog. Heidi made a batch of brownies for the kids, took them out of the oven to cool, and went into the bathroom.  Lucy heard the bathroom door close, verified that no one was in sight, and immediately went for the brownies–all of them.  By now, we assumed that "dogs and lethal chocolate" is a myth.  Lucy was no superdog, just an opportunistic pig.

The lesson:  Don't leave any food out, within a dog's reach, repeatedly.  The dog's not the forgetful one.



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