"I didn't give any of these to my dog, don't worry. Dad."

"Baking means Avoidance in Sanskrit."

There are few words to describe the pasty twenty-four hours, during three of which my dog went from normal face to "Marlon Brando circa late 90's" face. We thought she was better, after lapping down pumpkin to cure the assumed constipation and digestive issues, and suddenly I was wondering if it would be like TV, and I'd have to puncture her breathing tube with a ballpoint pen to allow air inside. Instead I calmly called my mom (Hey, big ups for coping like a 12 year old) and we were on our way to the local twenty-four hour "luxury" Animal Care hospital. I say luxury because it now butts up against some of the newer, nicer developments in Northwest Portland, and everyone who works there wears Danskos and has some form of a mullet.

It's like a Starbucks, for pets, only the people serving you are actually smarter than you, they don't just think so. So they can be as arched and slightly bored as they want. But you are so thankful.

On the way there she shook and wheezed and barked, and when she barked it was such a squeak of sound that everyone in the car turned and looked at one another and immediately started using KINK voices, the Adult Contemporary station that makes you both relaxed and enraged with the passive chuckles the hosts use during the Morning Commute. It was time to stay calm, and her little heart beat against my chest and I stroked her back and ears and thought about things, important shallow things like what I was wearing. The outfit included an Old Navy v-neck shirt that kept falling off my shoulders, a long camisole and long gaucho pants. My hair looked like a Jackson's on his or her first solo album cover. Probably Rebbie or Jermaine.

So we got there, the dog was admitted (She's a family dog, no matter how possessively I refer to her) and we sat on the bench and watched the other dogs and their people. One woman, who was insane, came in and after dropping the craziest story about a dog who had killed five cats and attacked hers to the point of near death, could she press charges at the hospital or did she need to call the actual police, etc. was told that there were no dog bites anywhere on her cat. The cat's leg was crushed, but that was most likely because the cat had been the victim of a car, or something had fallen on it. The woman looked at her attending with space-filled eyes and said "But she doesn't leave the (Fenced) yard." The guy stroked his ear plugs, adjusted his barista glasses and calmly explained that again, there were no dog or animal bites evident on the cat. "I'm still going to call the county." She said, and sat outside where she couldn't see me staring at her.

Another woman, who was probably around my age, worried that her dog might be dealing with the effects of a newly introduced all-raw diet. The professional who was dealing with her could barely keep the contempt out of her voice as she began to discuss microorganisms and their effect on small dogs who's feeding regime was radically changed and most likely not properly prepared. I felt for her, this girl and her fancy athleisure shoes and cropped jeans. And wondered why she was feeding a 12 pound dog raw sirloin.

There were so many dogs and cats, so many people worried about these animals. The saddest though, was a woman who wandered out from behind the door, well-dressed with a baby strapped to her chest. She was weeping and sniffing, drawing a hand repeatedly across her face. She was asked in hushed tones if she wanted to take care of things now, and she said she needed to take a walk and call her husband and she'd be back. So she left, one hand on her baby, the other wiping her face and her mind on her other child, who was not taking this walk with her.

My dog, my 10 pound Marlon Brando, had been whisked away. My mom went in once, and came back with words like Biopsy and Cancer and lymph nodes and so on and there was a point where I covered my mouth and nose, tepee style with my hands and stared at the cats kept on premises to be blood donors. My sister moved closer to our mom, and we all decided to talk about American Idol.

An hour went by, and then there was more news. No Cancer, nothing recognizable. The fluid pulled from her neck was clear, not lymphatic fluid. She had an infected salivary gland. Her stomach, which we believed to be the original problem, was soft and fine and the pumpkin fed to her earlier would probably pass anything through within the next few hours. She was just full of spit.

So they gave her back, and we paid the smaller than expected bill and I took my dog home. She was blazed, by the way. She was higher than anyone you've ever seen, with dilated eyes and the inability to walk in a straight line. They shaved her neck, too, so this morning, as she finally came down off of the meds they gave her she looked like she had just staggered in from a night under the overpass with that guy with the van and some friends who had some stuff they said would make the freeway sound like Burning Man and they all shaved their necks as a sign of solidarity and did she have some stories for you.

My dog is fine. I am thankful. So thankful.

These are the brownies I made yesterday, right before the adventure. They are a really good brownie, not my favorite ever but nice and thick and dense, with a deep flavor and just right for binge eating in times of crisis.

Thick Brownies (My Dog Didn't Die Brownies)
Adapted from Martha Stewart

 1 stick of butter, diced
1 1/4 cups of chopped semisweet chocolate
3 eggs
1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
1 cup AP flour, dip and sweep method
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon hot prepared espresso or strong coffee
Powdered Sugar (optional)

Preheat oven to 350° F. Butter an 8x8 square pan, and line with parchment paper (Trim to fit -- only two sides need to be covered, and there should be some overhang so you can pull the brownies out easily), then butter the parchment. Set aside.

In a glass or heatproof bowl over a smaller pan of simmering water, melt together the chocolate and butter until smooth and liquid. In another, larger bowl sift together the flour, salt, cocoa powder and baking powder. Once the butter and chocolate have melted, whisk in the sugar, then the eggs one at a time whisking well after each. Add espresso and vanilla to the chocolate mixture, stir and add the dry ingredients -- use a wooden spoon or rubber spatula to fold the two together, stirring just until incorporated. Pour into prepped pan, smooth and bake for 45-55 minutes, checking after 40. No liquid batter should cling to a toothpick, knife or skewer when inserted, only fudgey crumbs. Top should be smooth and have a parchment crust. Remove the brownies from the oven and cool in the pan for twenty minutes, then use the parchment paper "handles" to remove the block of brownies to a rack or smooth surface and allow to cool completely.

When ready to serve, pull parchment down, trim sides if you like, and cut into squares. Sift with powdered sugar, serve and try not to make any cocaine jokes. You've had enough crisis for one day.

Comments

[Chocolate Chipped]

You hooked me with this post, not only with the yummy photo of the brownie but with the story of your dog. I so relate to that feeling of "Oh no, what do I do?" There are few worse feelings for a dog lover than having to take your baby in for emergency treatment.

Good thing you had those brownies waiting for you when you got home. I would have been so stressed (or relieved) that I would have scarfed down the whole plate full probably!

[Bakerina]

Oh, I'm so glad to hear that your lovely dog is okay. The brownie recipe is pretty boss, too, and I'm dead impressed with anyone who can go through a day like that and still write about it with such eloquence and finely-honed humor. (I nearly lost my iced tea through my nose at your description of your dog's high, specifically at the notion of the stuff that makes the freeway sound like Burning Man. It's a miracle that my laptop still works, frankly.)

I am here via the lovely Purlingswine. I am enchanted by your words and pictures. Thank you for sharing them with us. :)

[Heather]

A big WHEW with you. I have a dog and a half (the sweetest chocolate lab full time and I share custody of a badass chihuahua), and they are totally my babies. I feel ya, and am SOOOO relieved for you. As for the brownies, I make Ina's all the time in a huge sheet pan for work, and my coworkers love/hate me for them!!!! Keep up the great blog, you crack me up!

[L.]

Thank you so much for your comments -- Seriously. She's doing spectacular now, though still a little swollen and the shaved spot on her neck is truly fancy.

Ren, I've tried the Nigella brownies and they were good, only I was paranoid and underbaked them to the point of a completely raw interior. What I was able to ingest? Nice times. I agree with you on the butter, have you seen Ina Garten's "Outrageous Brownies" recipe? She laughs in Nigella's face and then calls her something awful, concerning butter useage.

Lisa, I'm so sorry that your experience didn't end well. She's been given tons of extra loves, and is adjusting quite well to the excess. Thank you for the lovely compliment, and I hope you enjoy the salt lick bars.

Christine, thank you! The platter/tray is by Thomas Paul, his kimono pattern -- I bought a set of trays, dinner and dessert/salad plates off eBay -- if you search Thomas Paul the guy selling them should come up. Really reasonable, and a great deal.

Sassy, Silvia, HoneyBeeSF, Aoife and Mallow, thank you guys very much.

[Christine]

I think vet's waiting rooms are scarier that the ER. Maybe that makes me a bad person... Anyway, glad to hear everything turned out alright. And maybe if I get over my fear of baking chocolate, I will try your brownies. They look delicious, as usual. And I always get envious of your brown flowered plate!

[mallow]

Good lord, I am so glad your dog is okay. I could not have handled a sad end to that story today! Beautiful brownies too. I am trying to decide if my sweet tooth is more powerful than my exhaustion tonight, or vice versa. Bed or baking, bed or baking?

[Aoife]

I freak out whenever anything seems wrong with my dog, and your experience sounds wretched. I'm so glad everything turned out alright.

[Lisa]

I'm glad she's OK. A couple of summers ago I pretty much lived at the Animal Medical Center (kind of what you're talking about except it's NYC and the bills were never Smaller Than Expected). My story did not end happily, which made me doubly triply glad yours did, so I wouldn't have to cry on an otherwise perfectly peaceful Wednesday night. Don't forget to give her extra kisses.

I'm still gonna make those salt lick bars one of these days. Excellent blog you have here.

[ren]

oh, i am glad the dog is doing ok. i had a very similar experience with my cat. i think the emergency vet centers are required to use all the scary words in one really long and painful and expensivesoundingbutilovethisanimalandbyowningthemihavepromisedtocareforthemohmygodthisisgoingtobebad sentence before telling you everything will be ok.

have you ever tried the nigella lawson recipe for brownies? i'd like to see how they two compare. i think nigella's call for three sticks of butter. plus two tablespoons. plus an angiogram

[Silvia]

Aw man, what a horrible day for you. I'm glad poochie is ok and the brownies took your edge off.

[MhoneybeeSF]

Glad to hear your baby is okay! Love, love, love your blog. Keep on being you.

[Miss Sassy]

Yay! The dog is OK. When I got to the cancer part my stomach sunk. You have a real way with words--you keep things interesting and sassy which, of course, I love. I wish you could deliver those brownies here as I am just dying to have some.