While at the grocery store yesterday I indulged in a
Scharffenberger 82% Cacao Bar. At bed time I snuggled into bed, put on an episode of American Dad and ate half the bar, savoring ever bite, as they teach you to do on the chocolate tour. I carefully wrapped up the rest, placing it on the night stand for a repeat performance tonight.
This morning, after returning from errands, I found the smallest fragment of the wrapper on the living room rug. Roscoe, you bastard! Tasha and Frankie don't take things off of tables or night stands. We're still getting used to the fact that Roscoe helps himself to anything he can reach. He's gone so far as to pull a plate of food off of the coffee table
while I was eating from it.
Knowing that chocolate is poisonous to dogs, I called the vet. We were able to determine that the amount he ate was not close to toxic levels, but it might give him a jolt. Sort of like drinking a gallon of strong coffee. When it kicked in, Roscoe went crazy nuts!
It started with him barking at nothing. Then he walked around the kitchen panting and whining for 15 minutes. Then he laid down and bit his nails and kept putting his leg in his mouth and gnawing on it. If I moved a muscle, he would run to my side and butt his head against me. If the other dogs even looked at him he would snarl and whine at the same time. Then he started to butt his head against furniture and walls. All the while he was chain-smoking. After about 45 minutes he fell asleep on his bed and hasn't moved.
Being a child of the 60's I feel bad for the little guy. I know what a bad trip can be like.