> >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 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, however, 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 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 Williams 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, Perry 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 dog out >to relieve himself. Well, the darn 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 Karee'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 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 >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 >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 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 Day?
Created on ... February 07, 2004