It’s been an especially barfy week around the EWM home. Weak stomach?
Probably best you stop reading here. I’ll come up with another post before long
that will be safe for the queasy and squeamish.

Thing is, I woke up Tuesday morning to find that Yoki had produced an
unusually large and solids-loaded mound of puke. It’s unpleasant, sure, but
common enough and not so eventful that I bothered anyone else in the house with
the news (no elated "Come see this!"). But there were three large hunks of
solid matter in and around the smelly and soft acids and foodstuff soaking into
his over-priced foam pillow. Recognizable solid matter: three
pieces of Nylabone flexible pooch pacifiers. Uncanny. I was stumped. Y.
hadn’t chewed any of those in more than two months.

It must have been Ph. He’d had opportunity to grab one of the remaining
Nylabones from the Value Pack–3 Chew Bones (Offre Exceptionnelle, says
the package) and give it to Y. the night before. I was sure it was Ph.
So sure, in fact, that I asked him about it when he arrived home from school,
prepared for the more or less regular standoff and inevitable grounding.
"I know you did it, because I did not." But Ph. stood firm,
arguing with impressive poise that he had nothing to do with the unusual by-products
thrown up by Y. He was so resolved about his innocence, in fact, that he baited
me with the possible punishments, as in go ahead, ground me, I didn’t
do it. But we have proof! What about the proof?! Y., who remains crated for
the most part, couldn’t have gotten his paws on a bone by himself. Not
possible.

I called the vet: "Is it possible for a young dog to keep three chunks of
Nylabone in his stomach for more than two months." It was the veterinary
assistant. She put me on hold while she asked the doctor, then came back
to give me an unhelpful answer: "No, he would have evacuated them before
now." Oy. Okay. Unheimlich, unheimlich.

I was on campus Wednesday and bumped into dog-owning friends. One
offered this wise insight: "Read the package. I don’t think they’re supposed to eat those." Here’s what the package says, in part:

Different dogs have different chewing styles, even with the same
breed–one may be a strong chewer and another more gentle, preferring a
softer chew. Bristles raised during chewing can help clean teeth and the
cleaning action helps control plaque and tartar build up. This chew is not
consumable, but small shavings (no larger than a grain of rice) should pass
through. Replace when knuckles are worn down. If dissatisfied, return
product with receipt to Nylabone for refund or replacement. Please read
enclosed Guidelines for Use before using.

I went back to the scene and the evidence, double-bagged in ziplocs in case a
vet appointment was necessary. I begrudgingly re-examined the bits and
found that all three were knuckles. Nylabone knuckles. Remnants of more than
one bone. The vet must’ve
been wrong (perhaps because s.he didn’t know what sort of bone I was referring
to). Ph. was cleared of all allegations. Here Yoki’d been toting those
chunks of "inert soft thermoplastic polymer with natural flavor" around in his
stomach for several several weeks.

What will we do with the third bone in the value pack (the remainder, liver
flavor)? I’m not sure. But I’m relieved that this turmoil has ended,
that Y.’s poor stomach is Nylabone knuckle free, and that I’m the only
one to blame for only half-way reading the instructions on a package of dog
bones.