I'm home again, thank goodness, though Mum's still in hospital so might have to go back to Vancouver. Anyway, by morning Fraser was fine. He did a large jet black poop (vet warned about that b/c of the charcoal) at the ferry terminal, so hopefully that expelled any remaining chocolate in his system. Unfortunately, Mum has dementia and hides chocolate about her apartment, so he sniffed out a bar of Lindt's down the side of her chair. And shredded some envelopes, mail etc. which he's never done before, but it was a stressful weekend for him too being moved around and left alone in Mum's condo. Could have been him tearing through paper to get to the chocolate. Or a sugar high, an ecstasy of destruction. I just couldn't believe I had to deal with all that in the middle of all the stress about Mum. I had no idea how much chocolate he'd consumed, so I'm glad I decided to find a night time vet as there was quite a lot of chocolate in his vomit. Man, vomit and poo. That's all I seem to talk about these days. I remember in earlier years talking about politics and literature. This is what it comes down to. But Fraser is recovered, so despite the money, that's what matters. Remains to be seen whether I'll have to go back to Vancouver soon, but brother is holding the fort in the meantime. I'd send a pic of sad Fraser after his emetic, but I don't have photo bucket any more and not sure how else to post a pic.
