d.kurz
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- Joined
- May 10, 2001
- Messages
- 1,477
I got this in E-mail and I'm guessing this isn't true....but it's FUNNY!!
We have a fox terrier by the name of Jasper. He came to us in the summer of
2001 from the fox terrier rescue program. For those of you who are
unfamiliar with this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10 year old child
whom you know nothing about and committing to doing your best to be a good
parent. Like the child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will
only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as
he can get without actually performing a French kiss on me. Lest you think
this is a bad case of no discipline, I should tell you that Perry and I tried
every means to break him of this habit including locking him in a separate
bedroom for several nights. The new door cost over $200.
But I digress. Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the
cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it
got me out of cooking Thanksgiving for family, extended family and a lot of
drunk friends that I like more than family most of the time. I was however
assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for the
two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend. I am still cursing the electrician
for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was the only appliance in
the whole damn house that worked thus the assignment.
I made the decision to cook the rolls on Wednesday evening to reheat on
Thursday morning. Since the kitchen was freshly painted you can imagine the
odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams latex paint #586,
I put the rolls on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for
5 hours. After 3 hours, Perry and I decided to go out to eat, returning in
about an hour. An hour later the rolls were ready to go in the oven. It was
8:30pm.
When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock one
whole pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Jasper and my worst
nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like
a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up
in fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated.
I ran to the phone and called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious
laughter, he told me the dog would probably be OK however I needed to give
him Pepto Bismol every 2 hours for the rest of the night. God only knows why
I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than my kids did when they
were sick. Suffice to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was
black,white and pink. He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for
the night.
Naively thinking the dog would be all better by morning was very stupid on
my part. We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; put the dogs out
to relieve themselves. Well, the damn dog was as drunk as a sailor on his
first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and most of
the time when he was walking his front half was going one direction and the
other half was either dragging the floor or headed 90 degrees in another
direction.
He couldn't lift his leg to pee so he would just walk and pee at the same
time. When he ran down the small incline in our back yard he couldn't stop
himself and nearly ended up running into the fence. His pupils were dilated
and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter
from the vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast
had fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk. He assured me that,
not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off after about
4 or 5 hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol.
Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, Perry and I loaded him up and
took him with us to my sister's house for the first Thanksgiving meal of the
day. My sister lives outside of Muskogee on a ranch (10 to 15 minute drive).
Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from
the back seat onto the console of the car between Perry and I, we took off.
Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I
say that after eating a a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP.
These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any
smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it.
Now he was beginning to expel gas and they smelled like baked rolls. God
strike me dead if I am not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire
trip to Karee's, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did.
Once Jasper was firmly placed in her garage with the door locked, we
finally sat down to enjoy our first Thanksgiving meal of the day. The dog
was the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the
garage to witness my drunk dog, each returning with a tale of Jasper's latest
endeavor to walk without running into something. Of course, as the old adage
goes, "what goes in must come out" and Jasper was no exception.
Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen unbaked yeast rolls you
might as well have put a concrete block up my butt but alas a dog's digestive
system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed
blessing when we prepared to leave Karee's house. Having discovered
his"packages" on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could
hose down the floor.
This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water from the
hose hit the crap on the floor and the crap on the floor withstood the blast
from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure. We
finally resorted to scooping it up with a shovel. I (obviously no one else
was going to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a
coarse brush to get the remnants off of the floor. And as if this wasn't
degrading enough, the damn dog in his drunken state had walked through the
poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had to be brushed too.
Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we took him home and
dropped him off before we left for our second Thanksgiving dinner at Perry's
sister's house. I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is
back to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no
longer tricolor. Nonetheless for wear I presume. I am also happy to report
that just this evening I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my
closet door. It appears he must have come to his senses after eating
10 of them but decided hiding 2 of them for later would not be a bad idea.
If any of you have a suggestion as to how I can remove unbaked dough from
carpeting I would certainly appreciate your feedback
We have a fox terrier by the name of Jasper. He came to us in the summer of
2001 from the fox terrier rescue program. For those of you who are
unfamiliar with this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10 year old child
whom you know nothing about and committing to doing your best to be a good
parent. Like the child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will
only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as
he can get without actually performing a French kiss on me. Lest you think
this is a bad case of no discipline, I should tell you that Perry and I tried
every means to break him of this habit including locking him in a separate
bedroom for several nights. The new door cost over $200.
But I digress. Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the
cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it
got me out of cooking Thanksgiving for family, extended family and a lot of
drunk friends that I like more than family most of the time. I was however
assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for the
two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend. I am still cursing the electrician
for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was the only appliance in
the whole damn house that worked thus the assignment.
I made the decision to cook the rolls on Wednesday evening to reheat on
Thursday morning. Since the kitchen was freshly painted you can imagine the
odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams latex paint #586,
I put the rolls on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for
5 hours. After 3 hours, Perry and I decided to go out to eat, returning in
about an hour. An hour later the rolls were ready to go in the oven. It was
8:30pm.
When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock one
whole pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Jasper and my worst
nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like
a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up
in fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated.
I ran to the phone and called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious
laughter, he told me the dog would probably be OK however I needed to give
him Pepto Bismol every 2 hours for the rest of the night. God only knows why
I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than my kids did when they
were sick. Suffice to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was
black,white and pink. He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for
the night.
Naively thinking the dog would be all better by morning was very stupid on
my part. We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; put the dogs out
to relieve themselves. Well, the damn dog was as drunk as a sailor on his
first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and most of
the time when he was walking his front half was going one direction and the
other half was either dragging the floor or headed 90 degrees in another
direction.
He couldn't lift his leg to pee so he would just walk and pee at the same
time. When he ran down the small incline in our back yard he couldn't stop
himself and nearly ended up running into the fence. His pupils were dilated
and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter
from the vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast
had fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk. He assured me that,
not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off after about
4 or 5 hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol.
Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, Perry and I loaded him up and
took him with us to my sister's house for the first Thanksgiving meal of the
day. My sister lives outside of Muskogee on a ranch (10 to 15 minute drive).
Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from
the back seat onto the console of the car between Perry and I, we took off.
Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I
say that after eating a a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP.
These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any
smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it.
Now he was beginning to expel gas and they smelled like baked rolls. God
strike me dead if I am not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire
trip to Karee's, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did.
Once Jasper was firmly placed in her garage with the door locked, we
finally sat down to enjoy our first Thanksgiving meal of the day. The dog
was the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the
garage to witness my drunk dog, each returning with a tale of Jasper's latest
endeavor to walk without running into something. Of course, as the old adage
goes, "what goes in must come out" and Jasper was no exception.
Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen unbaked yeast rolls you
might as well have put a concrete block up my butt but alas a dog's digestive
system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed
blessing when we prepared to leave Karee's house. Having discovered
his"packages" on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could
hose down the floor.
This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water from the
hose hit the crap on the floor and the crap on the floor withstood the blast
from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure. We
finally resorted to scooping it up with a shovel. I (obviously no one else
was going to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a
coarse brush to get the remnants off of the floor. And as if this wasn't
degrading enough, the damn dog in his drunken state had walked through the
poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had to be brushed too.
Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we took him home and
dropped him off before we left for our second Thanksgiving dinner at Perry's
sister's house. I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is
back to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no
longer tricolor. Nonetheless for wear I presume. I am also happy to report
that just this evening I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my
closet door. It appears he must have come to his senses after eating
10 of them but decided hiding 2 of them for later would not be a bad idea.
If any of you have a suggestion as to how I can remove unbaked dough from
carpeting I would certainly appreciate your feedback
But, he was ONE sick Pup!
