Crayola® Kryptonite

I was awakened last night at 1:15 am from a deep sleep to the unmistakable sound of a Chihuahua heaving. Nothing strikes fear in the heart of a Chihuahua owner more than the sound of vomiting. There isn’t much worse in life than rolling over in bed into a puddle of cold puke, unless you have a dog with loose sphincter muscles but that is a story for another day…Luckily, the culprit this time was Chi-Chi and she is most considerate. When she feels the vomit urge strike, she leaps off the bed to hide under it where she does her dastardly deed. Of course, you are only lucky if it is at night because at least then you know what is transpiring. It can happen when no one is there to see it and then we play a game of “What’s that stench and where is it coming from?”

So there I was at 1:30 am attempting to coax Chi-Chi out from under the bed. AR was snoring away oblivious to all. She kept making that wretched dry heave sound without producing any vomit. She must have eaten a bad crayon or perhaps Chi-Chi had just discovered what her Crayola® limit was for the day. Either way, something needed to be done to remedy the situation.

I pretended not to care and climbed back into bed, allowing my arm to hang off of it so that my hand touched the floor. Slowly I heard Chi-Chi inch her way over to my side under the bed (AR’s side is the one she prefers to puke under), until her cold wet nose was flush with my hand. I gently scratched her head and rubbed under her chin all the while whispering to her that she needn’t hide under the bed since she isn’t a bad dog just because she feels sick over and over until she was finally out from under the bed.

Up until this point, Pinky was fully enjoying the luxury of being the only Chihuahua in the bed. She shot me a dirty look when I pulled Chi-Chi onto the comforter. Success at last! I scooped up the ill-feeling Chihuahua and sprinted into the kitchen with my catch. I dared not to release the petite hound for experience has taught that she would immediately dart under the couch, thus beginning the next round of coaxing.

With one hand filled with Chihuahua, the other managed to open the fridge door and pull out a bottle of tonic water. Tonic water is the great elixir when a tummy is upset. It works for humans, so why not for Chihuahuas? I somehow unscrewed the bottle cap with one hand and poured a small amount in a glass Pyrex dish, also known is this home as a dog bowl. I held the bowl up to Chi-Chi’s mouth and her head bent down slightly to inspect what was proffered. After a quick sniff, she flatly refused the tonic.

I took a spoon and tried unsuccessfully to get Chi-Chi to drink from it. Finally I dipped my finger into the tonic and touched it to Chi-Chi’s lips. She accepted the tonic and so we continued finger to bowl, tonic to Chihuahua lips until it was done. It was a painstakingly slow process.
I sent Chi-Chi out into the yard thinking that she might enjoy a chomp of some grass to force the vomit issue, but she did not partake of the green substance. Promptly she emitted a huge poo smattered with flecks of Vivid Violet crayon, the last Crayola® to meet with Chi-Chi’s vice-like jaws.

Chi-Chi scampered back into the house and was already peacefully slumbering before I reached the bed. I spied my daughter’s box of Crayolas® that have already proven to be one Chihuahua’s Kryptonite. I cavalierly tossed the sweet-smelling wax into the garbage without thinking how I was going to explain the missing crayons to her and retreated to the bedroom. Pinky had already assumed her rightful place atop my pillow. As I settled back into bed, Chi-Chi snuggled up to my legs and Pinky heaved a deep sigh. I looked at the red LCD numbers on the clock that said 2:10 am. Only three more hours until it’s time to get up I thought and instantly fell asleep. All was right with the world.