Joe Trash is back today, ripping out the ugly moldy shed from the back of our house. So I'm home with the dogs, letting them out front to do their bidness as needed. I sat out there with them, and didn't think too much of Zeus eating something on the porch, because well, Zeus is often eating something.

I go to lunch, come back, and let them out again. Only this time I pay attention to what Z is eating. Fuck. It's snail bait. Fuck.

Which means that he's had two courses of the stuff. One that had 2 hours to work, one that had less time. Fuck.

I called the number for national poison control. That shit can kill kids, she said to call our vet. Sigh. The vet told us to rush him in. I took my time leaving because being this pregnant just requires that.

We get to Adobe, he's ushered into an exam room, where he takes a huge poop on the floor. Then we go to the same ICU cage where he spent that week last year. He's given the stuff that makes even stubborn beagles puke. Then we wait.

He pukes twice, then while he's a bit groggy, they trim his nails. The doctor comes in and says he really doesn't think this dog ate snail bait because he would've been twitchy by now.

Right, except I watched him do it. And he's Zeus. Of course he's fine now. Hell, he prolly was all along.