Thursday, 21 August 2014

Today I ate dog food and caught my fingers in a mouse trap. On purpose.

No, I wasn't partaking in some hazing to join a local drinking club. I was emulating my daughter.

I have dog. He is brilliant with Olive, incredibly patient, gentle and most importantly tries to ignore her whenever he can. When he can't (like when she is trying to ride him like a horse) he generally gets up and finds another quiet spot away from her inquisitive little fingers. If you have kids - she is the Zachary Quack to his Hairy Maclary.

He is unlike most dogs I know in his attitude to his food. I give it to him, he'll go and have a nibble. Go away again come back for a bit more later, and continue in that manner for the rest of the day.

Olive loves his food. The moment my attention is elsewhere - she tears across the kitchen as fast as her two arms and two legs can carry her heading straight for the bowl. If she makes it in time she stuffs a handful of dry dog biscuits in her mouth managing to combine a triumphant grin with a clenched lips as I try to extract the food from her mouth.

This is particularly depressing when moments earlier she may well have turned her nose up at the tempting, hand-crafted, turkey and apple meatballs I've offered her.

I know that safety standards specify dog food must be fit for human consumption and, to my knowledge, she has never actually swallowed any just held the biscuits (too large to choke on) in her mouth. But I think we can all agree it is a bit icky.

This morning, happily holed up in the sitting room far from temptations of canine cuisine, Olive went exploring. I like to let her exert her independence, and from my vantage point thought I had identified and neutralised any potential hazards.

Under the side board - long forgotten, left at Christmas when we saw a tiny mouse scurrying across the floor  - was a mouse trap.

You can guess the tiny fingers in trap outcome.

It is a testament to how wonderful a mother I am that it was only my second impulse to take a quick photo. My first instinct was to remove her little fingers from the trap, and whilst I might do a lot for a photoshoot I am not about to re-enact that scenario.

Luckily the trap wasn't one of those vicious metal numbers but a gentler (if not exactly gentle) plastic version. Her fingers didn't even have a mark and her tears dried pretty quickly.

Once she was in her bed for her morning nap my mind kept wondering back to these potential hazards and how bad they were.

Which is why I purposefully caught my fingers in the trap - and concluded it was unlikely to have caused any lasting damage.

I'm not quite sure why I decided to put a dog biscuit in my mouth.

I suppose I wanted to see how much would have dissolved in her mouth before I hoiked it out, and whether it tasted very strongly of anything that could be bad. My conclusion was it didn't taste of very much and would take a fair bit of chewing to break it down. So - whilst I'm going to continue in my attempts to keep Olive and the food apart - I suspect it is less harmful than a salty crisp (not that she is getting any of them either).

My devotion to my daughter's comfort only goes so far - she had her one year jabs yesterday. I wasn't about to jab myself in sympathy, I did far too much of that to get her in the first place, on this she is on her own...



3 comments:

  1. Ouch! I guess that's why they recommend getting down on your hands and knees when you're baby proofing. But the reality is, you only notice after they've already got the forbidden in their hands. Except for electrical outlets.

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  2. LOL only a mama would do this!!! Love it!

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  3. Arthur got squashed in the gate at a tube turnstile today. *walks off whistling*

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