I have been gathering up gear and getting ready. I'm looking forward to getting away...as we all are. I have little stacks and piles of what we will need accumulating in my dining room. I was smart enough to put the snicky snacks out of reach of the kids, the dogs, and Cheech; even giving everyone stern warnings not to play with, move or fiddle with my stuff. I missed somebody though, or they weren't listening.
Last night we were in the bistro with a bonfire, my "stars" while inventing recipes and relaxing. The dogs were snoozing on their cushions...great night. When we decided to come in we noticed Birdie moping and slinking slowly to the door. Well, we ALL know what that means.
"What did you do?" I scolded opening the door. Winston buzzed right in and pointed out her "mishap" by sniffing and slapping at it.
"Ohhhh NOOOO!" I half laughed-half pouted. She had been rummaging through the supplies and torn at a few of the wrappers. No big deal when it comes to the paper plates or the tin foil box. I wasn't even too angry that she'd pulled most everything out and strewn it all over the carpet. I WAS however, miffed that she had sampled my soap bar. There were tiny scraps of wrapper on the rug and to look at the bar, it resembled my son's boyscout whittling techniques. You could see little nick marks from her teeth. I sighed and glared at her. I really didn't think I needed to call DIBS on my soap. My cookies? My favorite Pop Tarts? I can easily understand....NOT SOAP.
She gave me the doe-eyed look. "What?? I didn't do it. Check with the fat pig over there." she seemed to snip. Then the fun began. Her belly lurched. She began to heave and wretch.
"BIRDIE!" I hissed scooping her up and trying to get her to the tile while holding her snout with my other hand. I didn't make it, ending up with a handful of hot bubbles. She coughed and sputtered. More bubbles flew from her nose and seemed to cover me.
"Ohhhhhh BIRDIE!" I pouted and plopped her on the floor. The gagging continued but the bubbles stopped. "Honey...." I soothed beginning to clean up. "I TOLD you not to get in there...." but it was all on deaf ears. Winston was jumping around laughing at her in his chubby way. I could still see little blue streaks of soap stuck to her teeth. She kept heaving.
After a few more coughs and spine-twisting gags, she settled down. I sat with her until she fell asleep. In the morning, she was bright eyed and bushy tailed as ever. I was glad. But I had to laugh at the little line of foamy bubbles around her mouth.
It could have been worse and much less entertaining.
I believe she will stick to rawhides and pig ears; fewer bubbles.
Enjoy your day. Thanks for stopping here. I appreciate it.
