Anna June, like most little girls, probably considers her dad her hero.
This is good, because he's probably my hero, too.
Yesterday, I was working in our office with the door closed so I could concentrate. AJ was watching a TV show on her Kindle. Ben was napping.
I took a break to fold some laundry, and I spotted an empty plastic dental floss container on the floor near my bed. From the teeth marks on the container, it was clear that Radar had thought the "mint flavored" floss was a treat. AJ brought me a flashlight and we searched under the bed, not seeing a shred of floss.
We guessed he had probably eaten the entire roll whole. But what to do? All things must pass, I told myself.
Ben searched the internet and found the formula for inducing vomiting in dogs: 5 mL hydrogen peroxide (the 3% household kind) per 10 lbs of dog. I was not excited about this plan. We were having yet another thunderstorm and Radar was scared. To make him hurl and keep him from hiding under the bed would not help matters.
But Ben persisted. His mind had already jumped to where I dare not go - thoughts of Radar's little stomach or intestines being blocked or tied tightly and painfully with floss. We discussed the possibility of expensive surgery, or worse.
I got the hydrogen peroxide. I brought Radar in to the kitchen, insisting that AJ come along with us so Radar would not feel isolated.
We tried to give it to him in a dish, because I thought the interesting smell would entice him. Evidently, being repulsed by hydrogen peroxide is an inter-species trait. I sometimes have to use it for my teeth and it is gross.
I held Radar while Ben took a medicine syringe we used to have to use for AJ and filled it twice with the disgusting stuff. I held Radar's mouth open and Ben squirted it in. I took a small hydrogen peroxide bath as Radar fought it with all he had. Good thing he's only 20 pounds!
We waited, all staying in the kitchen and keeping Radar on the easy-to-clean kitchen tile floor. He coughed and sputtered. He walked across the room and sat on the rug by the door, looking at me accusingly. "I don't even know what to think of you anymore," it felt like he was saying. I apologized profusely, but he was still mad. AJ got the newspapers. I sat near Radar's blanket, in case he wanted reassurance.
About ten minutes later, as we were wondering if the vet on the internet could have been wrong, Radar threw up. Sure enough, there was the floss, most of which was tightly wound in a ball.
"He could have died," AJ said.
To us, Ben is a hero. He may not wear a cape, but he saved the day through his levelheadedness and persistence. Even though we worked as a team, he led us through this scary and disgusting time. He even cleaned the floor.
Sometimes being a hero looks like dog vomit.
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