She might have a problem

We moved the night before Thanksgiving. The house in Springtown was built in the 70's, and for all intents and purposes, had stayed in the 70's. When we bought the house, we got the house full of furniture and mice. The previous owners had done their best to keep up with the mice, but they were elderly, and you could tell that they had lost the battle. There were droppings everywhere. Among the droppings, we also found little chunks of yellow flaky stuff, that strangely resembled dried-up playdoh.
I quickly learned it was rat/mouse poison.

By the time we moved our stuff in that day, the sun had set. Our stuff was everywhere. You could barely see the floor. After the warm welcome from one of our neighbors, I didn't want to let my dogs outside unattended. So they stayed in with us, and after we lost steam trying to unpack and attempting to move the old furniture into the garage, we slept in the living room. My hubby slept on the couch, I slept on the loveseat/chair, between us a sea of boxes and furniture.

I woke up to a dark house, and could hear a crunching sound. I realized that one of the dogs was chewing on something. I assumed that it was one of their porcelain dog bones, as I had unpacked them on a whim. I went back to sleep.

Awhile later, I woke again, to Kooter sitting in front of my chair, his wet nose about 2 inches from mine. Daisy? Nowhere to be found.

I convinced him to lie down, so I could sleep a bit longer. However, I started to hear a crunching sound again. I decided to check up on the sound. I maneuvered my way into the kitchen, only to find Daisy eating something strangely resembling dried-up playdoh.

The fucking dog ate rat poison.

And with the house such a mess, there was no telling where the hell she found it, or how much of it she had eaten.

At 6:30am on Thanksgiving morning, I was frantically calling the animal hospital 20 miles away, trying to find out what the hell I needed to do. I was told 'Your dog will go into convulsions, have seizures, go blind, and then die'. LOVELY.

We spent the better part of our Thanksgiving at an animal hospital about 45 miles away. The only one open anywhere near us. We had to bring both dogs, because we weren't sure if Kooter had eaten any of it. They had to induce vomiting. And Daisy, the dog who not only eats everything, but pukes at the drop of a hat, would not puke. They had to give her the medication twice before she puked up some yellow playdoh shit.

Kooter? No poison in his tummy.

They both got shots in the ass, and were given prescriptions for Vitamin K or some shit like that, to make sure they didn't die in the next month. Do you really want to know how much this set me back??

On the way home, the dogs were in the back of my SUV, with all the seats down. Daisy tried to lie next to Kooter, and he started growling at her. She started to get all submissive 'I'm sorry I put you through hell at the vet's office', but he wasn't buying it. She kept at it, and Kooter attacked her. While we were driving down the highway. Scary fangs, foaming at the mouth, growling, barking, trying to kill his sister.

Daisy flew from the back of the SUV to the front in about .5468 seconds. Fur was flying all over the place, she was drooling everywhere, and she jumped into my lap in the front seat, stuffing her dumb head under my armpit.

Kooter laid in the back the rest of the ride home, growling and shooting her the evil eye any time she peeked out from under my armpit.

Fucking dogs.