I am sure you’ve read about how Obi devoured our treasured, gently handled lechon baon en route from New Jersey to Texas.
Last night, we arrived in our hotel room from a short, two hour absence to scout for some good deals at the nearby outlet mall (I scored an awesome waterproof, 2-in-1 Columbia winter coat for less than $100. Hurrah!) and a Shakey’s Pizza fried chicken and potato mojos dinner (Walang Shakey’s in Texas!), to discover a quiet Obi. I greeted him as usual: pet his head, kneel down so he can place his head on my thighs and snuggle with his hooman momma.
“Good boy Obi!” I gushed, kissing the top of his head.
I didn’t bother to inspect the room because Obi IS a good boy when left alone. He’s never chewed up any of our shoes or bags or clothes, nor made an awful mess with the trash. EXCEPT if I forget to secure the trash can/s as he does go through the trash for food stuff (He is our second vacuum) and discarded tissue (I suppose he finds tissues tasty too). I made sure all trash cans were behind closed door in the bathroom.
The Husband and I walked towards the space beside the bed, where the two of us could comfortably accommodate the excited dog, wagging his tailless rear end. “Where’s the ball? Where’s the ball?” The Husband asked Obi, who was now diving then rolling on the carpet in happiness. He picked up Obi’s ball, I then walked towards the other end of the room for a little game of fetch. In the middle of my third step (of course, it was a teeny hotel room), I noticed a torn up piece of paper at the foot of the bed.
It was pink and white. I remembered that The Husband left his precious, favorite Starbucks chocolate caramel muffin on the office desk. I then took a quick look at the desk. Uh-oh. Confeeermed. It was the remnants of a Starbucks chocolate muffin.
“Obi ate your muffin. Pati yung papel na liner kinain niya.”
The Husband’s round face lit up like a stoplight. “HUWAAAAAAAAT!!?!?! Pagkain ko yun! Binili ko yun!” He walked towards the office desk, scratching his head and trying to figure out how Obi got to the muffin. There was a bedroom bench, beside the desk and he found Obi’s stray fur on it. He must’ve jumped onto the bench to reach the muffin.
Again, I stifled my laughter. “Hayan kasi inaasar mo kasi siya. (The Husband enjoys tormenting and teasing Obi everyday, poking and scratching his tickle spot right above his hind legs. The other night, Obi started growling at The Husband, whenever he did that.) Bumawi lang si Obi.”
“INSIDE!!!!” he bellowed, pointing towards the crate. Obi’s sunshiney, smiley face, turned gloom and doom in a snap, ears now pointed towards the ground, walking ever so slowly towards the crate. His dramarama sa hapon walk of shame.
“BAD DOG!“ The Husband scolded, raising his hand, poising it for a spank. “BAD DOG!” Obi’s eyes grew as big as saucers in fear, retreating to the back of the crate like a car in reverse.
“Walang hiyang aso yan. Kamote.”
“Pati sa West Coast…” I snickered, clicking my phone camera open. This definitely was snap happy moment.
The Husband reprimanded Obi again and again. “Pffffttt…as if he’d understand” he mumbled. And I just giggled. “Wag mo palabasin yan ha! (Don’t let him out!)”
The Husband went to his side of the bed, plopped his behind in a huff, grumbling about his beloved chocolate muffin. After a few minutes, he took a peep at the crate to see if Obi was still inside. One of his front paws was mid-air, about to step out of the crate.
“INSIDE!” The Husband barked. Obi waddled backwards, sat down, frozen. The Husband stood up from his place in the bed and stood in front of the crate door. “BAD DOG!” he repeated to the guilty dog, then turned to me “Wag mo patulugin sa kama yan ha! Parusa niya yan. (Don’t let him sleep on our bed. That’s the punishment for what he did.”, as I reminded him that I had to take Obi for his pre-bedtime wee.
Mid-chortle, I snapped back into reality that Obi had just eaten a CHOCOLATE muffin. Chocolate is poison to dogs. I quickly turned to Dr Google to check on the ingredients of that Starbucks chocolate caramel muffin and what I needed to do (if I could actually do anything myself).
And so, Obi still ended up sleeping beside me. I wanted to make sure that he didn’t vomit, seize or poo post chocolate muffin ingestion. I wasn’t sure I could find a reliable AND affordable vet, a 1,500 miles away from ours.
This The following morning I woke up to our dog son, Obi Juan, rolling around in the hotel sheets as usual. Thank God, Obi is okay.
Again, this face….PRICELESS.