It's funny how things happen. I was just thinking that I should give everyone an update on our rescued bulldog, Zoey. Almost as if she read my mind, the other night she decided to do something blog-worthy. Before you get all excited, I should tell you that it was not something good. I'll get back to that in a minute. She is continuing to gain weight and has much more energy. Her skin and haircoat look healthy, and her breath is drastically better. The breath may be the thing I'm most excited about. Her backbone doesn't stick up quite as far, and you can just barely see her ribs. She definitely has more life in her eyes, if that is quantifiable. All in all, she is starting to look like an old, but healthy dog!
Her favorite new trick is to wait until I flip my head over to blow dry the underside of my hair. As I obviously only need one hand to hold the hairdryer, she has decided that my free hand is available to pet her. She sits and watches me intently until I finish applying my makeup, then chooses the perfect moment and attacks. If there is such a thing as demanding to be petted, she has it down pat!
Several days ago, as my husband and I lay sleeping blissfully at two in the morning. We were both awakened at the exact same moment by the sound of something hitting the floor. Something loud, and something liquid. In perfect synchronization, we bolted upright in bed and cried, "Zoey!"
My husband, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, mumbled, "Did she pee?" Flipping on the light, I practically yelled, "Yeah, she peed, but that's not all!" Next to the giant pile that can only be described as a cow patty was Zoey, sitting there with an incredibly guilty and pitiful look on her face. Ushering her quickly out the door, my husband headed to the kitchen for cleaning supplies. While I was drying up pee with a towel and wondering to myself how in the world he could have thought that all she had done was pee, as the smell was making my eyes water, the love of my life returned from the kitchen.
While he was gone, I had discovered the culprit for this whole episode. There was something in the poop that didn't belong there. After a brief debate in which my husband was absolutely no help, I determined that the offending object was in fact a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup paper. Somewhere in my foggy, half sleeping mind I recalled asking Zoey what she was eating earlier in the day. Apparently someone left some Valentine candy unattended. Lovely.
This story does have a point, and here it is. When my soulmate returned from the kitchen, he had a pet odor eliminator candle in hand. He walked into the room waving it around, then suddenly giggled and said, "I feel like I'm at a rock concert!" And then, at 2:30 AM, right there in our bedroom, in his underwear and waving a candle, my husband belted out a chorus of "Every Rose has its Thorn." Right then it occurred to me that Kirk is the only person in the world who could make me laugh while cleaning up dog poop in the middle of the night.
As we crawled back into bed, I said a silent prayer thanking God for such a great guy. He said something else I can't quite recall (hey, it was 3:00 AM by this point) and I dissolved into giggles again. I figure that if, after 15 years together, he can take something disgusting and turn it into something hysterical, I must have married the right one.
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