Adventures in Pet Ownership

 

 

Last night I dreamed that my oldest dog, Bruce, took a notion to crap all over my bedroom (my teenage bedroom for some reason) and I missed my anatomy scan (which is actually tomorrow) because it took so long to clean it all up. I woke up with a jolt as I felt Zac sit up in bed and scold the dogs for something.

“What’s wrong?”
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“I thought I heard them chewing on something. Sounded like wicker.”

We do have a wicker basket in our bedroom. It’s one of the dog beds actually but as neither of our dogs are at all destructive this struck me as odd but it was 5am and no logic penetrated the sleep fog.

I woke up again around 7 right before my alarm went off. Bruce was curled up against my ever growing belly which was also odd. He never sleeps with us at night but he does have needy moments so I dismissed it.

Then I sat up…..and was pulled back down by Zac who decided it was too early for me to get out of bed. I laid there against him with a lingering thought tickling at me. Much like Arthur Dent in the Hitchhiker’s guide kept absently thinking “yellow”, I had a similar experience with the color brown.

“I think one of the dogs puked.”
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“Maybe that’s what I heard last night then. Something woke me up.”

I got out of bed and stepped over the puke pile so I could relieve myself before dealing with the problem at hand. At this point I call for the dogs to go out. They have a pet door so they can go at at will but they usually won’t go the morning without prompting. Sometimes even with prompting our younger one, Trillian, needs you to actually walk to the door with her before she’ll go.

This is a morning that Trillian won’t go. Bruce already shot out of the room but Trilly keeps running back and forth between me and a “toy”. This is also odd. Trilly is a playful dog but not at 7am. Like the rest of this household, she isn’t quite ready to take on the world till midday.

I call to her again. She runs back to the toy, this time pulling it a little closer to me than the last time. And I see it….and the whole story comes together.

 

She didn’t have a toy.

She had a FREAKING DEAD BIRD!

A DEAD BIRD that I’m sure our darling kitty took it upon herself to gift us with in the middle of the morning. The wicker Zac heard was bird bones crunching. My subconscious registered dog vomit and translated it into a different kind of mess.

I say to Zac, kind of hoping it isn’t really true (I’m not wearing glasses yet at this point and the object in question is at least 15 feet away), “Is that a dead bird?”

“Um, yes, yes it is.”

“GROSS!” And I shut the bathroom door so as not to see the blurry corpse.

I hear Zac say from the other side, “I’ll take the bird. You take the puke?”

“Deal.”

 

 —

Anatomy scan tomorrow.

Nervous.

Scan went great! Will update later.