Archives: Peanut Butter, Part 2

10 May

Woo! That took awhile.  Thank you for waiting for the conclusion of Hank’s (rather, my) peanut butter fiasco of 2010.  So to recap, the night before Hank had consumed an entire jar of peanut butter, including: retrieving it from the counter, popping the top off, peeling back the freshness seal and helping himself to a salty snack.  The next day, Hank was still visibly bloated, very gassy and groaning as he rolled back and forth on the floor.  Sure, we felt bad…but it he wasn’t violently ill (unless you count the violent smell coming from the backyard) and even if he didn’t know any better, even if Alta egged him on or pushed the peanut butter off the counter for him…Hank brought this on himself.

Picture the furry, dog version of a kid wanting to stay home from school: the one that empties his arsenal of every pitiful woe-is-me trick, in order to get that magical home-sick call in to the attendance office.  We expected the grumpy, uncomfortable dog, the pouty face and puppy-eyes hoping to gain our sympathy and be allowed to sit on the couch all day.  But we didn’t expect that Hank, especially in his state of discomfort, would take his cure into his own paws…

This is what we found after dinner out that night.

A picture really is worth a thousand words; because in this picture, there are actually two stories being told.

The first: the tale of a curious, chronically hungry and determined little puppy dog-who, after suffering the wrath of 2400 mg of sodium in one salty sitting, was gassy, bloated, and if I had to guess, suffering heartburn, stomach ache and all the other fun stuff you could think of incurring after eating a tub of peanut butter.  So what is the only logical solution to these intestinal infirmities? TUMS!

Yes. Hank followed in the footsteps of his human role models: spicy food lovers, fans of fried everything, and patrons of sketchy and/or mobile eateries…he washed his poor food choice down with a bottle of TUMS.  We couldn’t help but appreciate the irony of Hank’s latest destruction; and it remains a mystery whether or not they actually helped with his sore tummy, or just distracted him with the task of shaming yet another packaging design and chasing around colorful discs that melted on his tongue.

The second story this picture tells is the one of us returning home from eating at a local Thai restaurant.  More specifically, that Michael has a particular penchant for extra spicy Thai food, and was counting on the extra large bottle of TUMS waiting for him…to ward off any miserable heart burn.  Notice the sad, concerned (about looming and inevitable discomfort) face holding up the bottle of destroyed and consumed TUMS.  Michael isn’t sad about cleaning up the rainbow of half chewed calcium carbonate tablets strewn all over the floor…but instead for the fact that it was now too late to make a trip to the the store, and his dog had beaten him to the mixed-berry goodness that wards off the fiery debt you pay for asking for a “9” on the spicy scale.

HUMAN TRANSLATION: Be proactive.  One of the many “mom lessons” that I’ve learned over the years is that as soon as you start feeling the tickle of a sore throat…whip out the hot salt water and gargle.  Yes, I spent most of my childhood warding off this lesson by swearing up and down that I wasn’t getting sick: no, I didn’t need extra sleep to prevent the flu from taking over; and yes, I was positive that the chills and sore throat were allergies so keep that nasty purple syrup away from me!  What Hank’s TUMS solution is telling us is something all of us already know: if you start feeling sick, do something about it.  Don’t pretend it’s allergies or that  it must be a dry time of the year.  No need to raid the drugstore for everything over the counter stamped with the word “cold” on it, but you can: sleep more, drink more water, take a few vitamins and try and get better before it gets the best of you.

Be well!

Love, Hank


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