Dog story (OT)

April 7, 2003

I found this story rather amusing...don't know how true, but funny as can be!!

~~~~~~~~~

We have a fox terrier by the name of Jasper. He came to us in the summer of 2001

from the fox terrier rescue program. For those of you who are unfamiliar with

this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10 year old child whom you know

nothing about and committing to doing your best to be a good parent. Like the

child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on the bed,

on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without actually

performing a French kiss on me. Lest you think this is a bad case of no

discipline, I should tell you that and I tried every means to break him of

this habit including locking him in a separate bedroom for several nights. The

new door cost over $200. But I digress.

Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project

is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it got me out of cooking

Thanksgiving for family, extended family and a lot of drunk friends that I like

more than family most of the time. I was however assigned the task of preparing

24 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for the two Thanksgiving feasts we did

attend. I am still cursing the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so

quickly. It was the only appliance in the whole damn house that worked, thus the

assignment. I made the decision to cook the rolls on Wednesday evening to reheat

on Thursday morning. Since the kitchen was freshly painted you can imagine the

odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin latex paint #586, I

put the rolls on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for 5

hours. After 3 hours, and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about

an hour. An hour later the rolls were ready to go in the oven. It was 8:30pm.

When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock one whole

pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Jasper and my worst nightmare became

a reality.

He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a combination of the Pillsbury

dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in fur. He groaned when he

walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated. I ran to the phone and called our

vet. After a few seconds of uproarious laughter, he told me the dog would

probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every 2 hours for the

rest of the night. God only knows why I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol

any more than my kids did when they were sick. Suffice to say that by the time

we went to bed the dog was black white and pink. He was so bloated we had to

lift him onto the bed for the night.

Naively thinking the dog would be all better by morning was very stupid on my

part. We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; put the dogs out to

relieve themselves. Well, the damn dog was as drunk as a sailor on his first

leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and most of the time

when he was walking his front half was going one direction and the other half

was either dragging the floor or headed 90 degrees in another

direction. He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and pee at the

same time. When he ran down the small incline in our back yard he couldn't stop

himself and nearly ended up running into the fence. His pupils were dilated and

he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter from the

vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast had

fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk. He

assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off

after about 4 or 5 hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol.

Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, and I loaded him up and took

him

with us to my sister's house for the first Thanksgiving meal of the day. My

sister lives outside of Muskogee on a ranch (10 to 15 minute drive) Rolls firmly

secured in the trunk (24 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from the back seat onto

the console of the car between and I, we took off.

Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I say

that after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP! These

burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any smell in a

drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it. Now he was

beginning to fart and they smelled like baked rolls. God strike me dead if I am

not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire trip to

Karee's, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did.

Once Jasper was firmly placed in her garage with the door locked, we finally sat

down to

enjoy our first Thanksgiving meal of the day. The dog was the topic of

conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the garage to witness

my drunk dog, each returning with a tale of Jasper's latest endeavor to walk

without running into something.

Of course, as the old adage goes, " what goes in must come out " and Jasper was no

exception. Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen unbaked yeast rolls

you might as well have put a concrete block up my ass but alas a dog's digestive

system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed

blessing when we prepared to leave Karee's house.

Having discovered his " packages " on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car

so we could hose down the floor. This was another naive decision on our part.

The blast of water from the hose hit the shit on the floor and the shit on the

floor withstood the blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning

to set up and cure. We finally resorted to scooping it up with a shovel.

(obviously no one else was going to offer their services) had to

get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the remnants off of the

floor. And as if this wasn't degrading enough, the damn dog in his drunken state

had walked through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that

had to be brushed too. Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we

took him home and dropped him off before we left for our second Thanksgiving

dinner at 's sister's house.

I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back to normal both in

size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer tricolor. Nonetheless

for wear I presume. I am also happy to report that just this evening I found 2

risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door. It appears he must have

come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided hiding 2 of them for

later would not be a bad idea. If any of you have a suggestion as to how I can

remove unbaked dough from carpeting I would certainly appreciate your feedback!

April 7, 2003