I finished two chapters and started on a third. I'm on chapter 15, and I'm thinking 7 or 8 more and the story should be done. Of course, it all depends on how much more the characters need to tell me. I'm still on schedule, as long as nothing detrimental happens, so I should have a draft done by the end of the year.
The Great Sock Scare of 2011
Ryder is getting a lot more comfortable in our house. Which means he's acting like a puppy. The other night, he had a lot of energy from being in his kennel, and he was bored because we ran out of bones for him to chew on. I was in the kitchen fixing dinner, and I glanced out into the living room. The puppy had something white, which looked suspiciously like a sock, in his mouth.
The 4 year old decided to be helpful and started chasing the dog around, yelling at him that he was bad and to drop it. Ryder thought it was a game. I was trying to get the 4 year old to stop chasing Ryder and get the dog to come to me so I could get whatever out of his mouth. While I was distracted with the child, he gulped the object down. And I mean gulped.
"Was that a sock?" I asked the 4 year old.
"Yes!" he tells me.
"Are you sure? Could it have been his bone?"
"NO! IT WAS A SOCK! AND NOW THE DOG IS GOING TO DIE!"
He then proceeded to burst into tears and have a slight meltdown. As calmly as I could (which, trust me, wasn't very calm), I explained to him that Ryder was going to be fine. I told him we would keep and eye on him and take him to the vet if anything happened.
"If it gets bad, honey, they'll have to do surgery."
"How do they do it?"
"They put the dog to sleep, and then they cut open his tummy. Then, they'll take the sock out."
"And he'll live?"
"Yes, he'll live."
Life was so much better after that, and the 4 year old calmed down.
The next day, we were getting ready for daycare. The 4 year old was on his brother's bed getting dressed, which meant the 2 year old had to be up there too. He climbed onto the bed and pointed.
"Ewwww," he says.
I look, and there's a huge pile of puke on his comforter. And right in the middle of it all, the sock. Needless to say, everyone breathed a sigh of relief and went on with their day worry free.
Sadly, the event hasn't taught the dog anything. This morning, he threw up one of my spouse's socks. *Sigh* Have I mentioned I'm not a big fan of puppies?
I hope you all have a great weekend. Try not to swallow any socks!
