This, too HAS passed...

The stupidest dog in our house, the Bassett Hound did it for the THIRD time: she swallowed a rock! The first time, when she was a puppy, the rock passed with drugs and luck and about $700 in vet bills.

The second time, months after that, required a surgical procedure: a rock-ectomy, I called it.

After that, we fenced the areas where the round, large rocks exist in our yard, and we watched the moron dog when she was outside. Over time, we figured the Hound outgrew this habit, or learned her lesson. We were wrong!

On Friday, I opened Molly's crate, and she didn't make her usual comical "dash" for her food bowl. She looked awful. She went out front, curled up in an unfamiliar spot next to the fence, and looked like she was going to die. Wifey took her in to Dr. Langdon, our wonderful vet, who really, really loves our Bassett. Of course, part of the reason for that is the dog is a damn annuity for her.

The X rays confirmed it: another huge rock, but farther down the bowel than the last one. Dr. L suggested laxatives, IVs to keep the stupid Hound hydrated, and some intestinal meds designed to "shake things up."

We got twice daily calles, Friday and Saturday. We followed the rick's progress. It was very slow.

This morning, a very happy Vet called to say the rock had passed. I told D2 the Vet tech heard a loud "click" on the floor --that was how they knew. She's gullible, like her sister, sometimes!

Anyway --Dr. L is keeping her tonight as well, to make sure Molly's all hydrated and over her latest medical adventure. Three nights in the Vet hospital, and all kinds of IVs and drugs. I'm guessing a bill, this time, in the high 3 figures, if not the low 4 figures.

When we retrieve the idiot dog, we have to keep her inside, or get her a muzzle. Wifey says she'll look like Hannibal Lechter.

Years ago, I fell in love with the philosophy of a bumper sticker: "Life begins when the kids move away and the dog dies."

Alas -- it does not appear I'll be enjoying the second part of that message.