I’m traumatized for the day, and feel the need to share :-). WARNING: not for the faint of heart… When I got out of bed this morning, Libby took one step, made one “BWUP” noise, and barfed. It’s not normal for dogs to barf – not like cats, who barf for fun. She seemed fine though, but it was a large grey mass. What the hell could she have gotten into? She’s not a “garbage guts” kind of Lab, not food oriented, so it was just weird. When I grabbed a large wad of toilet paper to clean it up (one of the hazards of living alone – I have to do ALL the dirty work), that’s when I realized it had eyes, and was heavy. My brain refused to accept the truth, as I told myself it was a toy mouse, and flushed it. It was quite large though, larger and heavier than any cat toy, and besides, Libby would more likely tear all the stuffing out of it, before even pondering eating it… It was a “real” mouse, I am now sure. So the questions now are, when did she consume it, and how did it get in the house? She wasn’t outside since around dinner-time last night, other than to run out and pee before bed… I then remembered around dinner-time, Oc was lying on the deck, scrunched close to the siding, rolling around, playing with something. I thought it was a bug, I didn’t see anything large. The screen door was open so anyone could saunter on in as they felt like it… I can now see in that spot he was playing, what looks like fur. I believe now that he learned his lesson from the LAST time he brought a mouse in the house, and knows better than to bring it in alive (mom squeals), and this time he murdered it outside, then snuck it in. Which begs the question – where did he hide it, before Libby found it? I shudder to think… I’m actually quite relieved that Libby found it. If it had been under my bed…. EWWWW!!!! New House Rules: Never leave sliding door ajar for a Skilled Hunter/Jungle Kitten. So while I was picking up the barf/mouse, it reminded me of a time in my younger days… If you’re still with me, you may find this funny… Way back in the 80s, my husband-at-the-time and I had a deal. I would clean up all the turds and barf emanating from our menagerie of cats, dogs, and horses (horses don’t barf, but I digress…); he would clean up all the critters, dead or alive. One gorgeous sunny Sunday spring morning, we both lazily came awake as Thai, my large blue-point Siamese, jumped in the bedroom window, and immediately crawled on my chest, and settled into the meatloaf position, facing me, a big happy self-satisfied grin on his face. Without warning, he opened his mouth and with one “yak”, barfed up a large heavy steaming pile onto my chest (I was still under the covers, blessedly). I screamed, as I could see it was a very freshly devoured whole mouse. My husband-at-the-time says, “Gross”, and gets out of bed. I’m lying there in a panic, cuz there’s a dead mouse on top of me (Thai was long gone), and I was “trapped”. “Get it off of me!!!!”, I screamed. “Not my job, it’s barf”, my dear husband-at-the-time replied. “It’s a dead mouse! It IS your job!”. He just left the house, leaving me to deal with it. I had to extricate myself out from under it, and somehow manage to clean it up. Needless to say, we’re not married any more. :-)
Posted on: Tue, 05 Aug 2014 17:01:12 +0000