I'm glad that Chandler has reached full maturity and no longer eats everything he sees. For instance, the little lizards that run rampant around here, Chandler has discovered over the years that they taste awful and will make you puke. He still catches them. He will carry them around in his mouth like a trophy until they stop squirming, and then he drops them. Not so Bette. She is a furry little vacuum, sucking up every morsel, every leaf, every everything that is on the ground in front of her. Last night she kept sitting on her rump while we were on our evening walk. She would sit, and then turn and try to lick her poop chute. So I shined the flashlight on her rear and discovered that she had a half a turd protruding from her rectum. I put one of the poop bags on my hand and gave the offending turd a tug. It popped out readily, but attached to it was what appeared to be a rubber band that stretched out at least a foot before snapping clear of her little bunghole. This came after the big scare she gave us last Sunday night. All appeared normal Sunday until her late night walkies. That was when she started showing signs of drunkenness, jitteriness, and other odd behavior. My first suspicion was that she had got a hold of some liquor, but there was no evidence of that. I do remember dropping an Excedrin on the floor a few days earlier that disappeared somewhere. I gave up searching for it, but it was possible that Bette had found it. And then there are Mark's meds. He has many, and he often fails to put the cap back on the bottles. What ever it was she ate, by the time we took her to the vet in the morning it was already wearing off. Still, we left her there to get some fluids to flush her system, and some blood work to make sure everything was good with her. Two hundred and thirty dollars it cost to find out that she is perfectly healthy, and that whatever she ate had been flushed. I'm just glad Mark didn't put any tinsel on the Christmas tree this year. I'm sure I'd be pulling a lot of that out of her butt hole.