Thursday, May 14, 2009
Yesterday, as promised, I took my sister's dog to the vet to have a micro-chip implanted. My sister had suggested this as a birthday gift for her husband. He wanted it done before their next camping trip, and hadn't had the time to go.
My three nieces were coming with me so they could be in on the surprise.
First, I picked them up from school. We had an hour before the vet appointment so they worked on making birthday cards for their dad. They did a good job. They cut out shapes, drew pictures, colored, and wrote lovely birthday greetings on their cards.
Sarah, the oldest, decided she wanted to put Sammy's paw print on her card. She told me she was going to dip Sammy's paw in blue paint then place it on the card. I told her no, it would be a big mess. She, a very determined almost twelve-year old, wouldn't give up; she said she would wash it right off. I told her it might not be good for Sammy, as the paint could be toxic. She insisted it was non-toxic. I said we would ask the vet.
That was my first and last mistake. I hoped she would forget all about it after the trip to the vet. Well, she didn't. She remembered to take the paint to the vet and ask about it. The vet said it wouldn't hurt Sammy. I told her when we got home to wait for me to help, so I could supervise the whole thing. I planned to take Sammy into the basement bathroom, do the print, and wash it off immediately. Sarah, on the other hand, thought she didn't need my help. I came down the stairs to witness Sarah and Sammy in the middle of the CARPETED rec room, placing a blue paw on paper. I saw the paw print smear all over the paper, as there was WAY too much paint on it. Then I saw Sammy break loose and scamper all around the room, leaving BLUE paw prints all over the carpet.
Suddenly Sarah looked very small and very sheepish. The other two girls heard the panic in our voices and came running. They took Sammy outside and washed her off with the hose. I went looking for cleaning rags. All three of us sat on the floor and scrubbed, producing a pile of wet, blue-tinted rags. I think we got most of the paint up. The spots still looked wet, so we couldn't really tell until it dried. Their dad is a perfectionist and very house-proud. We knew he would be apoplectic if he noticed. So we left the basement to let the carpet dry. I told my sister about it later, and she just laughed!