Toby, The Amazing Pooping Wiener, downed a small pack of Ex-Lax while we were at church this evening. Toby eating Ex-Lax is like an Amy Winehouse getting a vodka IV. Toby eating Ex-Lax is like a 900 number calling Hugh Grant And finally, Toby eating Ex-lax is like betting Charles Barkley he could quit gambling.
Funny story: When I was 13ish and Mr. Grant had his episode with his woman of the night, I was devastated. I mean like TORN UP over his actions. I was so moved by his public apology that I wrote a sappy teenage love letter to him telling him how sorry I was and how I forgive him. Me, Suzanne Jenkins from Chester County, PA forgives you Hugh Grant. I never sent it and managed to find it semi-crumpled up in my mother's junk drawer. If it wasn't bad enough that he never read my gracious words I had to force myself to realize that my family had. Of course I never mentioned it, I treasured the letter and place it safely in my box of important documents (read: letters to boyfriends and gossip journal).
Toby's punishment was being forced to watch me take Caroline out for a run while having Jordan pour hydrogen peroxide down his throat. The latter was less punishment and more necessity as who knows what would happen if he consumed as much as he had (well, google did). The former was less punishment and more habit as he is the worst dog to walk...ever.