Nothing rouses me from sleep faster than the sound of a dog threatening to barf on the bedroom carpet – the anticipation of last night’s supper making a second appearance is a real motivator to jump out of bed. It’s a great way to start the day.
As always, the offending creature is miraculously cured before I’ve finished cleaning up the mess – he is immediately ready for round two and trying to reach around my shoulder for another look, or taste. And then it’s me who wants to woof my cookies.
I knew I was in trouble yesterday on our afternoon walk, Chester picked up some disgusting, fishy smelling thing from the sidewalk, he crunched and swallowed faster than I could say ‘drop it’. Truth told I was almost thankful the offending article had disappeared before I pried his jaws open and tried to retrieve it. His breath wafted all the evidence I needed – whatever it was was disgusting and rotten and we probably hadn’t seen the last of it.
I’ve told Chester on more than one occasion he was out of second chances – there would be no more grand gestures to save his life. He’s had a death wish since he was a puppy – I have put my vet’s son through veterinary school trying to keep this dog alive. I am contemplating having DNR tattooed on his chest but Ches knows I won’t. Through all my scolding and all my “I mean it this time”-ing Chester has called my bluff.
So here we are – I’m cranky and Chester has no idea why. He’s sleeping at my feet and hopefully digesting breakfast while I contemplate going back to bed. Thankfully for both of us we are not whipping off to the vet this morning but in my heart of hearts I know we would if we had to – and so does Chester. He knows he’ll get one more second chance and then…. probably another.
Comments (1)
Love it! So typical of man’s best friend and women’s constant clean up after companion;