IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE an easy, laid-back few days.

Just before Thanksgiving I spent a few days in Denver, hanging out with my daughter Rachel and her husband, and their insufferably cute dog, Teddy. No big plans, just catching up on some writing and enjoying their company.

The last thing I anticipated, or wanted, was drama. But it was there, lurking in my luggage, and like a creature out of Alien, it erupted when it was least expected.

The cause of the drama was a Jewish cookie.

For those of you familiar with Zingerman’s, you know among their baked goods is rugelach (pronounced ROO-guh-leh). It’s one of Rachel’s favorites, so I brought her four of each of their flavors – apricot, raspberry, chocolate, and currant.

They didn’t have such a variety pack, but the person serving me said, “We’ll just open a few packages off the shelf and build what you need.” Without hesitation, or, “I need to ask a manager,” kind of thing. This is one reason I’ve been a customer for nearly forty years.

Rachel was thrilled, and ate one the night I arrived. The next morning we went out to get coffee, leaving the rest of the cookies on her kitchen counter. Knowing that Teddy never steals stuff off that counter, she didn’t bother putting them away.

When we got back we discovered there’s a first time for everything. The bag was on the floor, torn open, and the remaining rugelach were gone. One for Rachel, fifteen for Teddy. He thought that was fair, obviously.

Why is everybody always picking on me…?

“BAD Teddy!!” was Rachel’s first reaction. “You are in such trouble!” That turned out to be an understatement when she realized that he’d eaten the three remaining currant cookies. Raisins, including the type used in the rugelach, are toxic to dogs. They can cause the kidneys to fail, which is pretty much game over.

She called the vet and I ran some numbers. I figured he’d consumed about 10 grams of the currants, far short of the 75 grams that would usually be toxic to a dog his size. But the vet referred us to the Animal Poison Control hotline, which, after securing a $95.00 fee, informed us that we should induce vomiting anyway. “Every dog is different,” they told us, “and once kidney damage starts, it can’t be reversed.”

Okay, so be it. Hydrogen peroxide is the standard puke-inducing agent in this case. Trouble was, Teddy would have nothing to do with it, even concealed in dog food or treats, and he is big and squirmy enough to resist having it poured down his throat. Cream cheese, his most favorite treat, finally did the trick, although he figured it out and stopped before eating it all. It would have to do.

And nothing happened. So Rachel took him for a walk and a play date with a dog buddy of his, hoping it would get things moving. While it appeared he might throw up a couple of times, he didn’t. Her workmates, alerted to why she was taking the day off, jumped to her (and his) support. “PUKE, TEDDY, PUKE!” read one message to her.

Back home, she called the vet again to update them. While they were discussing possible next steps, like bringing him in to pump his stomach, she walked right up to a huge pile of vomit on the floor. Somehow he’d snuck away just long enough to do the deed without either of us noticing. “I have never been so happy to see a pile of vomit,” she told the vet.

Teddy seemed fine after all that, and ate a normal dinner. So we went to bed relieved, with a kidney function check scheduled the next afternoon. But the next morning, he threw up some blood. So off to the emergency vet we went. They checked him out and said it was mostly likely irritation from the hydrogen peroxide, and his kidney function was normal. So he got some meds to settle his throat and stomach, and the techs all got stickers of Teddy (which they gushed over, as well as the dog himself).

His final followup check was normal so, we were all able to enjoy the rest of my time there, which included a visit to the Denver German Christkind Market, where they at least attempted recycling and the drinks were served in reusable cups. It renewed my faith in humanity.

The final outcome: Teddy is just fine, and life at their house has returned to normal. I sent Rachel a replacement batch of rugelach using Zingerman’s Mail Order, with a note saying, “Keep away from small children, pets, and ESPECIALLY Teddies!” And no currants this time.

Lessons learned: keep human treats safely secure, and that pet insurance (which she had) can be quite useful, because it covers things like poison control calls and emergency vet visits.

And what did Teddy learn from all this?

“Not a damn thing,” we concluded.

The King on his throne.