Those of you who have/had animals will probably appreciate it more. It is a story that is hilarious in itself and the person that wrote it is a good writer and made the story even better.
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 about whom you know nothing
and committing to doing your best to be a good
parent.� Like a 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 Perry 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 friends that I like more
than family most of the time.� I was assigned the
task of preparing 124 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 darn house that
worked, thus the assignment.�� I made the decision to
cook the rolls on Wed evening to reheat Thurs
am. Since the kitchen was freshly painted, you
can imagine the odor. Not wanting the rolls to
smell like Sherwin Williams #586, I put the
rolls on baking sheets and set them in the
living room to rise for a few hours. Perry and I
decided to go out to eat, returning in about an
hour. The rolls were ready to go in the oven.
It was 8:30 PM. 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 it 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.
We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first
thing; put the dog out to relieve himself. Well,
the 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 grass
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,
Perry 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 (124 less 12) and drunk dog
leaning from the back seat onto the console of
the car between Perry 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 Karen's, thankful she didn't
live any further away than she did.
Once Jasper was firmly placed in my sister's
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 drunken 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 behind, 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 Karen'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 poop on the
floor and the poop on the floor withstood the
blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement
beginning to set up and cure.� We finally tried to
remove it with a shovel. I (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 darn 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 Perry'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. None the worse 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. Now, I'm
doing research on the computer as to: 'How to
clean unbaked dough from the carpet.'
And how was your Thanksgiving?
