Crap Machine
Yep, That Sweet Face Is What I'm Talkin' About."Why'd you eat the cake?!!!"
*confused stare*
I hadn't eaten the cake. I hadn't even looked at the cake yet.
"I didn't"
"Why did you slice into Scot's birhtday cake?!!!"
*continued confused stare, moving to irritation* why am I being yelled at*
"I didn't"
"You ate a huge slice! Of all the treats I brought home you have to eat the cake!!!"
*She walks up to the cake and fully opens the lid*
"I DIDN'T EAT THE CAKE"
"WELL THEN WHO DID?!?"
*She sees the chocolatey paw print on the stove next to the cake* anger shifts from me to the
dog* Whew!
"GINGERR!!!!"
*wheww, again*
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Ginger rarely (it used to be never) counter surfs.
However, during a period of 15 minutes - while we were both home - she surfed, made her kill and returned to her bed only to lie there innocently.
Dogs aren't designed to eat large amounts of carbs or sugars. They are carnivores. They eat meat. Their digestive systems digest protein (and grass and bugs and the insides of stuffed animals - only not so well).
Anyway, once Ginger started to pass one-third of a large expensive and a damn tasty birthday cake, her digestive system revolted.
Over a period of time of about 10 hours, she pooped maybe 7 or 8 times. Lucky for her it was during the night so we could let her outside. Unlucky for me, I got to be awoken every 90 minutes to "eeeEEeee." "eeEEEEee." "EEEEeeEEEE!!"
She'd trot out and do number 2 once or twice. About 8AM she had finally purged her system of gooey choclatey goodness and was exhausted. She left me alone the rest of the morning so I could nap. That was nice of her.
Labels: dog eating cake, intestinal disorder
posted by Pules @ 3:49 PM
2 comments
2 Comments:
Hi... this is Mark's "lovely wife" (as I'm called on this page frequently). Mark is forgetting that Ginger has a long, illustrious career of counter-surfing. Like the time she ate a whole pan of chocolate brownies (pulled the pan from the counter - devoured), and a whole loaf of fresh banana bread (ripped right through the plastic bag). There was also the time she ate a Zone bar and pulled the empty soup cans down and licked them perfectly clean. Once Mark left a chicken breast pushed towards the back of the counter and out of her reach. I watched as she groaned and wailed and tried so desperately to reach that meat. So, other than those times... I suppose she never counter-surfs.
I guess I wasn't home when all those other things happened.
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