Quarter to Four….in the morning. The dog is sick.
She’s got sh!t stuck all over her rear end. Cleaned her up as best as I could…which ain’t very. If and when it warms up this morning…if and when morning ever comes…I’ll have to haul her into the bathtub, scrub her down, haul her out, dry her off…a good half-hour or forty minutes of dog-and-human struggle.
Yay. I can hardly wait.
Human is starved. Bolting down some bread and cheese.
Dog is now giving the Human the famous fork it over, you! look.
Oh, good, saith the Human Why don’t I arm you with bread & cheese so you can barf it all over the bed?
Craparoonies! Now she’s laying there moaning softly with each breath.
Puff…ook
Puff…ook
Puff…ook
Please, please dear doggie! DON’T barf on the bed at 3:53 in the effin’ morning!
Of course it’s Sunday, running up to Christmas. Name a vet that’s gonna be open…
THIS is gonna be One…of…Those…Days, isn’t it?