We're getting the house ready ("nesting") for Josie's big arrival, so all of our outlets now host either a plug or one of those plastic outlet covers. So when I found Woody chewing on something that looked like a frosted piece of plastic about the size of an outlet, I quickly freaked out and rushed to scold him so he would drop the darn thing. It turns out it was only a piece of ice, and I felt terribly guilty for yelling at him in my panicked state for merely enjoying a cool treat.
Once I figured out it was just a harmless piece of ice, I changed my tone and tried to coax him into eating it (mainly to make myself feel better for getting on his case). He wouldn't have any part of that, thank you very much. ("You just yelled at me, lady!") What a good dog he is, doing exactly as I told him. I saw this was going nowhere, so I took the piece of ice and encouraged him to eat it out of my hand.
Let me remind you this dog has had raccoons for dinner. Natural born killer, this one.
Anyway, he reluctantly took the ice and seemed to enjoy it thoroughly from my fingertips. Speaking of words that end in -tips, I caught Woody the Best Dog Ever eating a Q-tip yesterday, so my freak-out today wasn't completely out of turn. I only found half of the Q-tip, so here's hoping the rest makes it through his digestive system.
In other Woody news, I've started thinking about packing my bags for the hospital. At 32 weeks, you've gotta start thinking about the possibility of being
early. I got an overnight bag from the basement last night, and put it by the bed for packing in the somewhat near future. Woody, however, had different plans for my bag, and has now claimed it as his bed. As a 25 lb. Jack Russell, he really likes being curled up in beds that are too small for him. Whatever floats your boat, Woods. Just lay off the Q-tips before I have a coronary next time you're chewing on anything but dog food.