I Am a (Half-Asleep) Idiot

I arrived home from work this evening to find this scene in the front hall:

Before I got the light on I was preparing to find the philodrendon and its pot in shards and shreds on the floor.

What it was was quite as bad, from a dog health point of view.

You see, I flew to my mom's for Thanksgiving, and got home last night. I bought an 85% cacao chocolate bar at the airport to eat on the plane, but it was too bitter. No problem, I'd do some cooking with it.

Or not.

This morning, after maybe two hours of sleep (up late doing homework I couldn't get to while I was gone), I did the bat out of Hades bit trying not to get to school toooooo late. I really, truly, really intended to stuff the dried banana chips and the beef jerky and the trail mix snacks back in my bookbag and take them with me . . . And I'd forgotten all about the chocolate bar in its sack, which I guess I must've shifted out of the bookbag and laid on the hall bench . . .

So ten hours later, I return home-- to food wrapper chaos. Including the chocolate wrapper that I homed in on and picked up right away. Oh, no!

If Llewellyn were a little dog, I would be freaking out. Chocolate is bad for dogs' hearts, and the darker it is, the worse. But if Llewellyn were a little dog, that 3.5 ounce bar would have done its dirty work long before I returned to the scene. But at nearly fifty pounds, the only thing apparently wrong with my greedy mutt was that he'd gobbled down every flake and chip of that chocolate and those snack foods and was still nosing amid the debris, unwilling to accept that there simply wasn't any more.

No point in making him throw up. He probably got at it as soon as my key was out of the lock at 8:00 AM. He seems okay so far. No more hyperactive than normal; in fact, he's as usual, quite content to lie at my feet while I work at my computer.

But someday, someday, that dog is going to eat himself into real trouble. And I have got to stay awake enough to prevent it.