Bottom’s Up?

“Sock!” wails my oldest son. We spring into action. Finding the door to my youngest son’s room open, we proceed inside to validate our fears. Our Great Dane, Leia, lies still on her dog bed, bigger than most queen mattresses, looking guilty. “Where is the other one, why did you leave your door open?” our oldest, holding up a singular Bombas sock, queries his younger brother. It’s painfully clear what’s happened. Leia has, again, eaten a sock. This revelation inspires a crisp trip to the vet.

The vet injects Leia with a small dose of apomorphine, which stimulates dopamine receptors located in the area of the brain reserved for vomiting. She’s uncomfortable for a few minutes, heaves, and we get the sock back. Bombas claims they give a pair to someone in need every time they sell a pair. I wonder if that person feels nauseated when this happens, similar to a rabbit’s blood pressure rising after a sibling rabbit dies. The previous sentence is ghoulish even for me.

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