It's our Friday night tradition, a family night in with pizza on the grill and a movie. And if Craig and I are really lucky, a little naked hot tub time under the stars after the kids go to bed. But, we weren't lucky. Not last Friday night.
It started out like any other day, I went to Whole Foods to buy my favorite non-homemade multigrain pizza crust to make my homemade pizzas with. And I forgot to bring my own bag just like I always do. Dang it! When the kids got home from school, it was the same flurry of chaos it always is. But, today River had a rock band performance. So I pulled the dough out and set it on the counter to rise while we scuttled out the door.
There's nothing quite as inappropriately entertaining as four 13 year old boys performing "Get Lucky" for their parents and siblings.
When we returned home, I got out the rolling pin, greased the pizza stone and tried to remember where the hell I put the dough. Except, I knew I put it on the counter. And it totally wasn't there anymore. After a hurried search through the house, I found the empty containers of 3 huge balls of dough in the upstairs hallway. With two very content dogs, Bonnie and Clyde.
Great. Now, even our dogs have expensive, gourmetish taste. Briefly, I considered whether they'd be constipated or if the flax would give them diarrhea. Before I headed to Papa Murphy to buy a couple of inferior replacement pizzas. Shortly after I returned home and heated up the oven, Craig arrived home from work. And I told him the legendary story of Bonnie and Clyde and the disappearing pizza dough. That's when he thoughtfully googled dogs eating dough. And I felt like the worst dog mom ever. Seriously, why did anyone allow me to adopt dogs and kids. Why? Because I am horrible. I mean I leave pizza dough on the counter for god's sake. Pizza dough that can be FATAL to dogs!
Oh no, it's not the yeast that bloats them and blocks them up that kills them. Nope. It's the alcohol the yeast produces that gets them drunk and causes alcohol poisoning. Why? Why, didn't I think of that?
While Craig rushed Bonnie and Clyde to the doggy ER to have their stomachs pumped, I distracted the kids from the fact that mommy may have just killed their beloved pets, the way I did with Copper their guinea pig a few years ago. Which didn't involve pizza at all. I left him outside on the front lawn by accident on a hot day where he slowly bloated and roasted. So, basically, exactly the same thing.
When Craig arrived, Clyde has gone from a buzz to a pleasant toasting. And they were starting to bloat. When the medicine kicked in and they started to puke it all up. Confirming they split the loot 50/50 between them. What they lack in smarts and self control, they make up for with manners, apparently.
Their night was spent crated in the ER overnight for observation. Behind bars, in jail, as far as they were concerned.
I hope they've learned their lesson. I know for damn sure I've learned mine, don't leave any food on the counter. Ever. Because that pizza cost us $1400.