A war’s been brewing in my house over the last eight months: It’s man vs. beast … cheapball vs. hairball … roommate vs. my dog.
My recent troubles started a few months back when my dog chewed my roommate’s cigarettes. He left them soggy, many of them broken. You could say this incident was the Bleeding Kansas before the full-blown Civil War.
My dog seems to chew on things. Strange things. Packs of cigarettes. Wallets. Screwdrivers. Money. He loves money. Not change but cash. It’s disappointing and expensive. He took out a couch cushion and two matching pillows last week. And guess who owns the couch?
So I wasn’t surprised when my “roomie” was in a panic the other day. The casualty? Another pack of cigarettes. Let me tell you, don’t mess with a smoker and their fix. It can get scary. And this time Sherman tore apart each stick of tobacco — that left nothing for my roommate, who wasn’t happy.
But I was scared. It appeared like my dog ate 15 cigarettes. Do you know what they put in those things? I watched over the little guy like a hawk, waiting for any sign of poisoning: gagging, choking, puking, anything.
I hit the Internet. Did you know that nicotine is used as a pesticide? It can cause seizures, problems breathing, vomiting and even death if ingested in the right amounts. Three or four cigarettes worth of nicotine can kill an adult, if absorbed directly into the bloodstream at once. Pretty scary.
I can report that my dog is fine. He seemed to rip them apart, rather than eat the tobacco. I doubt he even ingested half a cigarette. The only problems I noticed was bad gas and a irritated roommate, and that’s normal. And the roommate won’t let me forget.
This initial skirmish is my home’s Fort Sumter. I see nothing but bloodshed on the horizon.
Ladies and gentleman, the war has begun. And a house divided against itself cannot stand.
