got this in an e-mail and just HAD to share!
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 dinner 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 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 8:30 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 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 dogs out to relieve themselves. 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
floor 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 backyard 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 me, 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 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?