Buster

On My Overdose

Well, by now, I'm sure that most of you have seen one or two versions of this embarassing picture. Yes, that's me, wearing a bonnet, or satellite dish, or whatever you want to call it. What can I say? First they forced me to throw up, then they forced me to eat some disgusting black stuff, which gave me black diarreah, and then they stuck an IV in me. No, I didn't want to have that IV in me, so yes, I tried to pull it out. Hence the ridiculous looking satellite dish. I also didn't want to stay in my cage...would you? I was in a completely strange place, with people who had abused me thoroughly, so yeah, I tried jumping out of my cage a few times. What's four feet? I jumped much further down than that when I learned how to balance on top of our fence at our old house...but I digress.

Probably you are wondering what possessed me to eat 25 ibuprofen. Why, when I have such a happy life, would I throw it all away like that? Well, to be perfectly honest, it was an accidental overdose. I've experimented in the past with carrot cake, cat food, raw meat, egg shells, cookie icing, gum, and I've even dabbled in benydril, but ibuprofen was a new one to me. I've always eyed the giant container of ibuprofen that my parents keep in their bathroom. They take it a lot, so I figured it probably tastes pretty good.

Now, let me tell you a little bit about my family life. Ever since my parents got the new couches, life has been pretty glum. I'm NEVER allowed on them and if I do get on them, I get yelled at. The other night, I wasn't even trying to get on them and I still get yelled at. What I was trying to do was let my parents know that I needed to go out, but they blew me off and yelled at me for jumping on the couch...so I peed on the living room table. They asked for it.

Anyway, things are usually pretty good, even though I'm not allowed to get on the couch, but my Dad can be pretty tough sometimes. My mom is pretty much a pushover about everything. Usually if I want something, all I have to do is look at her the right way. Anyway, she left me with my Dad and the cats all weekend and that was stressful for me. Things just never feel right when we're not all together.

My mom was gone for three days! When she came back, she smelled like another dog and she hardly paid any attention to me. The next morning, she got up, took me out to pee, and then LEFT ME ALONE with hardly even a good morning and not even a greenie! I was devastated. Had she found another dog? Had she decided that I wasn't good enough? Anxiety turned to sadness and then to resentment and I did what any distressed dog would do. I ransacked her purse. First I pulled out all the papers and scattered them all over the floor. Then I pulled out her pens and pencils, her chapstick, her wallet. It was only by chance that I found the ibuprofen, which was inside a partially zipped compartment. It was in a childproof bottle, but that had never stopped me before. I've chewed through many a plastic container in my lifetime. So, I did it. I ate her ibuprofen. I figured that, since it seems to be a pretty important thing to her and to my Dad, it would hurt them the most.

Of course that plan backfired...I ended up the hurt one, manhandled by aggressive nurses who kept the things I vomited up in plastic bags for my parents to see. My mom cried, which gave me a little satisfaction, but it wasn't worth the two days I had to spend in the slammer. And then there was this:

I was gone for two days and Chowder took over my new hotdog that Libby gave me! (Turns out that the "other dog" was my cousin Libby. If only I had known!) The nerve of that cat! He steals my bed, drinks my water, uses me as a launching pad, is allowed on the couch AND the bed and now has violated my hotdog! I"ll get my revenge...

I'm back from the hospital now, was well fed by my Grandma in Tallulah, only peed in the house twice, and only butt scooted once. Life is good and I'm feeling like my problem with ibuprofen is in the past...today I just ate an entire package of dog chews.