Doggy Do Bad

This should lighten up your weekend!

Jasper and the Uncooked Yeast Rolls

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 dogs
out
to relieve themselves. Well, the damn dog was as drunk as a sailor on is
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 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. 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 damn 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?

by: Author Unknown

I really liked that it made me laugh

lol
took me ages to read!

:smt042 :smt043 :smt042 :smt005 :smt005 :smt040 :smt044 That was excellant. So it's not only my animals.

Star managed to break into my kitchen and eat a pack of 6 crispy rolls, she could not move for hours. No harm done though. Ours were baked

That was hysterical! Do most dogs not burp? I don't think I've ever owned one that didn't ops:

Zoi burps from time to time.

Penny, Lucy, and Tamino burp LOUDLY!