DH and I aren't yet blessed with munchkins. I am still able to enjoy the bliss of sleeping in on weekends, the joy of spontaneous vacations, and the indulgence of indulging myself.
DH is gone on his annual President's Day weekend fishing trip, so it was just me and Pup last weekend. She started my day bright and early 3 a.m. Friday morning by barking her pretty red head off to be let out of her kennel. I sleepily rolled over and opened the door. She excitedly jumped on the bed.
And promptly threw up.
On my bed.
At 3 a.m.
I was displeased. She looked miserable, but I hardened my heart and put her back in her kennel. It wasn't as difficult as one might think. I changed the sheets and blankets, rinsed out the gross ones, and crawled back into my chilly but clean bed. All was well until approximately 5:37 when she started barking again.
I wasn't taking any chances. I let her out of her kennel and walked her around in the snow outside just in case she had to use the bathroom or, heaven forbid, throw up again. She took this opportunity to make friends with the neighbors by barking at a rabbit under their window. We're quite popular in the mornings, Pup and I.
Back inside where I snuggled up under the blankets, and she settled in at the foot of the bed for about five minutes.
Then she threw up.
On my bed.
Again.
I was out of clean sheets and patience, we were both miserable, and all I could think was "she's only a dog ... what on earth will I do with children ... I don't think I'm allowed to put them in a kennel."
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