My Two Cents

So I’m supposed to give the family dog her meds, one pill twice a day. Sounds pretty easy, right? WRONG! My step-dad showed me how to do it: cover the pill in a glob of peanut butter, grasp her snout from above, and then, when she opens her mouth, stick it in the back so that she swallows it. I have tried to do this myself more times than I can count now, and somehow the pill pops back out every time, sans peanut butter. Meanwhile, the other dog keeps trying to snag the pill because it seems edible, which is an adjective he uses rather broadly, considering that his favorite snack is bits of paper. At this point, I can't even get the dog to open her mouth anymore, and I'm left with enough peanut butter lodged underneath my fingernails to sustain me for several days, should I find myself stranded in some deserted location.

Needless to say, I have moved past frustration to that state of mind where you just have to laugh at your predicament, or else you’ll go mad. I’m also guessing I’ll have to clean up PB puke here before too long… It brings to mind a hilarious episode of "My Name Is Earl" where he has to give a friend’s grandmother her eye drops (which she hates) every 10 minutes so that her lids don’t dry out.

From the transcript for “Monkeys in Space”:

Earl: Alright, let’s get going. Hank is waiting.
Grandma: Okey dokey.
Nurse: You have to take her drops.
Earl: What?
Nurse: Her eye drops. You have to put drops in her eyes every ten minutes or they’ll dry out and her lids will stick to the balls. You don’t want to see that. Her watch has a timer on it to remind you. Oh, and she hates it, so good luck. (Earl looks at the eye drops.)
Cut to Earl driving down the road. The timer goes off.
Earl: Does that mean its time for your drops?
Grandma: No.
Earl: I think that means it’s time for your drops.
Grandma: No, it doesn’t.
Earl: (pulls car over) Now, I have to give you your drops or they’ll dry out.
Grandma: I don’t like them.
Earl: I know, just give me your head.
Grandma: I don’t wanna.
Earl: Give me your head.
Grandma: No.
Earl: You’re gonna make me wrestle you, aren’t you?
Grandma: Yes.

*Update (5/15/06): The Knight in Shining Armor Award goes to Ryan, who should be the next Dog Whisperer, seriously. After spending precious minutes this morning cleaning up crusted peanut butter from the dog's face and the living room carpet, I stuck the pill into a piece of bread-- per Ryan's advice-- and rolled it up into a little dough ball. Voila! Within seconds, the medicine was downed, and I enjoyed a day without orange fingernail gunk. Thanks, Ryan!