Patrick and Christie came by last night to watch School for Scoundrels, the 1960 one with Alastair Sim, not the recent abomination starring Billy Bob Thornton. Good fun and good movie, unfortunately, Hobkin was not well. He’s been doing great this whole week, ever since I started putting a few drops of Rescue Remedy in his dinner. But this was a different sort of GI unhappiness, and I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to figure out what could be causing it.
I’m wondering now if he ate a sliver of dark chocolate. I had a couple pieces of dark chocolate yesterday morning, and when I was breaking the squares off the bar, a crumb or two fell on the floor. I wiped them up with a damp paper towel, but Hobkin was at my feet when it happened, and he might’ve snarfed up a tiny sliver–and I do mean tiny, as in much, much less than chocolate frosting on a birthday candle or a single semi-sweet chocolate chip. But it’s dark chocolate, which is much more toxic to little beasties than milk chocolate or cocoa powder.
Fortunately, after a lot of Pepto-Bismol on bread, Hobkin seems to be over whatever it was.
I, however, remain guilt-stricken.
– 800 or so on my next Writing for Young Readers column, several editing passes, and sent it off to ye olde editor. Anuzzer hamster out the door.