My nephew thinks either some kind of Brady Bunch tiki doll thing is hidden in his house somewhere, or else the house itself is built over an Indian burial mound. Why?
His son stepped on not one, but two tacks. And his coffee maker is on the fritz. And two of his pets are ailing.
Seems the pug had to go to the ER last weekend with some kind of bladder ailment. X-rays, catheters, meds, the works. And then my nephew posted on Facebook: I now have $640 reasons why I like cats better than dogs.
Well ... then the cat started puking Gatorade-colored stuff. Back to the ER. Seems he ate a Glo-Stick. He's still at the vet's.
So I asked my nephew: Do you still like cats better than dogs?
His answer: I'll let you know when I get the cat's vet bill.
Moral of the story: Either find that Brady Bunch tiki doll thing and get rid of it, or make sure the house is pet-proof. They will eat the darnedest things, and they end up paying for it with sickness and you end up paying for it with MasterCard.
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