Ike hasn't gotten a ton of blog time recently. He's clearly very upset. He's been spending less time with me and more time with Y in protest. This is causing custody issues: custody of Ike's "best friend" title.
What those of you who only "know" Ike through this blog don't know, is that when Ike is around people besides Y and me, he loses.his.sh!t. I had a post planned for this morning: a picture perfect video of him to attempt to put an end to the age-old question When an Ike behaves in the forest and no one is around to see him, did he really behave?
And then I came home from the gym at 6:30 am and he had practically written his comeback post for me.
I found this on the floor:
An hour earlier, that pan had been full of nearly an entire loaf of bread. Note that my first thought was not "Holy crap, Ike ate an entire load of bread", but something more like, "Ike hates bread! I must have outdone myself with this loaf!" Then, and only once I patted myself on the back for a loaf well done, did I start to research the existence of bread poisoning.
Y, the expert on dogs after 2.5 years of people medicine school, assured me Ike would be fine. He's really good at making me believe anything he says, so I decided to watch TV instead of attempting to Google every possible combination of the words "bread", "toxic" and "dog".
While removing the remote from its usual home in between the couch cushions, I noticed something brown but ignored it. Ike's bone, probably. Every time I give him a bone, I find it three hours later buried in the couch cushions.
It was not Ike's bone.
If only we had a hidden camera in the living room. I would love to know Ike's process for burying a loaf of bread while keeping it surprisingly intact.