Friday, January 15, 2010

Well THIS Socks.......

Those of you who have been readin' for awhile are well aware of my 7-month old black Lab puppy's penchant for socks. He started swallowing them whole some time ago and then tossing them back up in rather dramatic fashion. Being the crackerjack dog parents that we are, after the fifth or sixth sock was regurgitated we immediately ordered all socks off of the floor. Easier said than done with a ten-year old boy around. That being said, we've had a pretty decent sock-puke-free run lately. Fast-forward to this morning. I'm sitting down here doing my normal morning reading (on the computer, natch) and all of a sudden a freakin' ruckus of epic proportions breaks out. There's running and pounding and screaming and barking. I half expected Russell Crowe to yell out, "UNLEASH HELL!!!!!!!!" a la Gladiator. I hear, "MOM.......GRADY HAS A SOCK!!!!!!". Jesus Christ kid, what do you want me to do about it? You're faster than I am! Catch the little bastard. Well, he was finally apprehended alright, just as he gulped down the sock. Jack: "Mom, he's like a boa constrictor!" Me: "Yes, yes he is." What I was thinking is, "That explains what happened to the hamster". The hamster was half the size of a crew sock and WAAAYY more digestible. So anyway, it's just me and Grady around here tonight. Grady is looking a little green for a black dog and is giving me sad puppy dog eyes. Well, you ate the freakin' sock, dumbass.......we've been down this road before. What's that saying about doing the same thing and expecting a different result? If you're smart enough to know that that the leash means "walk" and that one of us heading for the pantry means "dinner" and that "let's go get Jack" means "get in the car", you're smart enough to know that eating a sock means you're gonna barf. Cough it up.

(c) 2010
Copyright (c) by Mollie Christie, 2010 all rights reserved.

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