Bad dog for sale

I'm a worrier. I think I've mentioned that previously, and for those of you that know me really well this comes as no surprise, but if there is something that could potentially POSSIBLY happen in the near future, there is a good chance I've already imagined it, stressed about it, and have an emergency plan just in case it all goes down. This is just a little bit of what my husband calls my crazy. And this isn't my "it's my hormones" crazy -- this is flat out, born with it, not going to go away unless we invest in a really good shrink, crazy.

I'm okay with it by the way. Makes me feel prepared, like an uber Boy Scout or something. But in times of high stress or high emotion, I worry more, but about the most inane things imaginable. Such as; Did I lock all the doors? Did I unplug my hair dryer? Did the garage door close ALL THE WAY? Because if not, we could be robbed, our house could burn down and someone could steal Ben's golf clubs and our nail gun!! In fact, in these times of stress, I actually will be driving down the street to go to work and start to worry that all the things have NOT been taken care of, so I have to turn around and drive back to ensure house and home are a-ok. See? Little bits of crazy.

But then, there are the things I don't stress about that actually HAPPEN and make me CERTAIN that if I don't worry about things than BY GOD they are a near certainty and we should all just get in the emergency fetal position RIGHT NOW.

And this weekend, Dexter (aka bad dog for sale) proved my insane theory right. There are things I do to ensure the dogs are safe when we leave. For example, all doors to the "off limits" parts of the house must be closed (and checked -- repeatedly) before I leave the house. All shoes must be off the floor, all food/edible items must be off the low tables, and the door to the pantry must be closed tight. They must have a full bowl of water and the doggie door must be open. In fact, I even ALWAYS remove the iron from the ironing board after Ben's dragged it out, because I'm afraid they will be playing, run into the table, knock the iron off the table onto their fragile little heads (I know. Crazy). I spend probably 3/4 of my mornings making sure they are all set before walking out the door. Baby proof? Shoot, our house is PUPPY PROOF.

Or so I thought.

Because the one thing I hadn't thought to do is make sure all the chairs around the kitchen table were pushed in. And I left a bag of chocolate goodies on said table. FOOLISH ME. In the time it took us to go to church and the store, Dexter had climbed on the table and dragged a treasure trove of chocolate into the backyard. And eaten it. ALL. In total, there were 15 or so Hershey Kisses (and their wrappers) missing, a half a giant dark chocolate bar, and a package of sugarless gum. When I came home and saw the damage. I lost it.

LOST. IT.

We spent the better part of two hours forcing our dogs to swallow hydrogen peroxide to make them throw up. It was horrible. Jackson just kept looking at me with his sweet, loving, sad eyes like, "Why are you doing this to me?" while Dexter just fought tooth and nail to keep anything from going down his throat. Turns out, Jackson is still a saint, and had not eaten ANY of the goodies Dexter bagged and Devil Dog (aka Dexter, aka Bad dog for sale) threw up all kinds of goodies, like foil wrappers, chunks of gum and other treasures.

So now, to add to my morning routine, I have to push in all the kitchen table chairs and imagine what other heinous crimes my dog will think up to try to thwart those as well. My mother-in-law was in town for all the excitement this weekend, and advised me that kids will get into the same kind of situation (eating things they shouldn't, playing with things they shouldn't, etc.) and it was nice to know at least I'm getting SOME practice for being a parent. I just hope our little girl isn't quite the determined evil genius that this dog is.