Whiskey, a turkey baster, and my dad (it’s not what you think)

I was stunned. I started screaming and I pried open his mouth to retrieve my laundry. But, it was too late; he had swallowed.

I was so freaked out that I called the Animal Emergency Room. The nurse said I needed to bring him in right away because the underwear could be deadly if they wrapped around his intestines. And, she informed me the cost would be $300 to pump his stomach. In a panic, and without $300, I called my dad explaining that “Whiskey ate something,” too embarrassed to say exactly what it was.

My Red Queensland Heeler, named Whiskey, is always at my feet and one afternoon while we were both doing laundry together, a pair of black thong underwear fell from the pile in my arms. Never expressing interest in clothing before, he lurched at the fallen underwear and gobbled them up without a moment’s hesitation.

I rushed him to my parent’s home where my dad proceeded to use a turkey baster full of peroxide (he researched the method online to ensure it was safe). He shot the peroxide down his throat and 1 minute later the black thong emerged. My dad shot me a look and just shook his head.

Whiskey is no longer allowed to help with the laundry and he’s still a little apprehensive when my dad calls him over.