Ah, House Sweet House.
The Live Acorn and I made it back alive from the modern-day Sodom of Salt Lake City, Utah relatively unscathed. We spent a few days there visiting my brother and his family, which is always a good time. Three nephews, five (or so) cats, three big dogs … how could that not be fun?
The hell hound, naturally, caused a bit of trouble … we bar-b-cued steaks on Thursday, and my brother naively (bless his heart) thought that putting the uneaten cuts on top of the microwave pushed way back in the corner of the kitchen counter would be sufficient to deter her and her ravenous meatlust. Needless to say, she made short work of it, which, unbeknownst to us at the time, was the first in a series of dietary events that made the weekend slightly less than ideal.
Cindy, my sister-in-law, is of the opinion that dogs should get to eat anything they want, anytime they want, and, in fact, keeps hot dogs on hand at all times just for treats, and dispenses them in whole form several times a day. I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with this – I only point it out because sudden changes in a dog’s diet can have gastrointestinal effects that manifest some time later as a brutal assault on the olfactory system of anyone within a mile or two.
Indy continued eating anything she could get a hold of all day Friday, and that afternoon, her occasional … ummm … releases, let’s say … started to become stronger and more frequent. That night, sometime around 3:00 am, she actually woke me up with a protracted blast, then got up and left. I now feel a certain kinship with the doughboys of WWI, who endured the mustard gas-filled trenches in the fields of Europe.
Saturday, of course, was Christmas, and the house was filled with many friends and Cindy’s family, all invited over for the traditional holiday brunch. It would have been a monumental letdown, comedically speaking, if Indy’s odor issues had not peaked during the meal, and fate did not disappoint. Furthermore, her body chose that time to collapse from exhaustion, so that she wouldn’t get up when I called her, and I had to literally drag her by the collar from the kitchen, where the guests were gasping for breath and frantically wiping the tears from their eyes.
It was not my proudest moment.
Eventually, people filtered out, and in the early evening, we drove over to another relative’s house for a quick visit. The five pounds of ham that was left on the table would have been lovely for sandwiches and snacks for days on end … as it turned out, the stripped-bare hambone that remained upon our return wasn’t really good for much of anything. It was at this point that The Live Acorn burst into tears, crying “Dad, I really really REALLY don’t want to drive home with Indy tomorrow!”
I’ve been tracking the shipment on UPS’ website, and she’s due to arrive today.
6 hours ago