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Party monster

I have long suspected that Dexter throws parties while I am away at work. I will get home, and his crate will be totalled: the matress overturned and folded over top of him, a toy floating upside down in his water dish. But I came home to an altogether frightening scene last night. My puppy zonked out on the bed, drenched in perfume, with a half-chewed faux Prada sling-back heel next to him.
I panicked. He had somehow found one of those little perfume sample bottles they hand out at the drug store, and broken in open. Had he eaten any of the glass? Had he drunk himself silly with the alcohol? Why was he so sleepy and lethargic? I could barely stir him. I grabbed his vet file and leash, and carried him down to the car to go to the 24-hour animal hospital in the South end. The inside of the Sentra reeked of Givenchy's Organza by the time we got there, but he was starting to perk up. Feeling like the worst puppy-mum ever, I explained to the receptionist what had happened, and she ushered me in to see the vet. By this time, Dexter was his normal, perky, curious self, sniffing at every inch of tile and bouncing around showing off.
"Well, the perfume probably evaporated before he drank very much, and he was probably sleepy because he'd had such a fun time, and played himself out," was the Doctor's explanation. "But it's better to be safe than sorry. You did the right thing. He's just fine." I felt very relieved.

1 oz sample of French perfume: gift with purchase

Black leather sling backs from Pegabo: $95.00

Trip to emergency vet clinic after hours: $115.49.

Your puppy apparently experimenting with gender roles and turning out just fine: Priceless.