Thank Dog for that first aid class-- I've been having to do a lot of finger sweeps recently. (You know, pull out the tongue with your thumb, look for a lodged object, and sweep it out with one finger.) On whom, you ask? Irby. The dog.
He's 12 weeks old today, and he's going through that rebellious stage where he teethes and pretends not to know any of the commands we've been working on for the past month. He picks up and chews on everything.
After going potty outside, I like to let him play around my room for a few [dozen] minutes, since there's [supposedly] no threat of precipitation on his part. During those few [dozen] minutes he likes to find new chew toys on the floor.
The first time I treated him to an after-potty room-romp party, I was at the computer, less than 10 feet away from him. Noticing he was chewing on something that didn't squeak, I got up and started to walk towards him. Just after I stood up, he started coughing. I'm 9 feet away, he's coughing. 8 feet...7...6...5 feet away, and he stops coughing. I assume he's choking. I run to him, open his mouth to perform the first of many finger sweeps, and I don't see anything. He's still not coughing. Panicking, I wonder what 911 will do for a choking dog. I put him on his back and try to remember how to do the Heimlich Maneuver for dogs. (Yes, there is a method: I learned it from "Puppies for Dummies".) As I'm trying to remember this, he wriggles out of my grip and calmly-- non-chokingly-- walks over to the foot of my chair, and picks up one of his many dog-approved chew toys.
Well, sunuhvubich!
He didn't even give me a chance to be a headline hero:
