I know it’s the Holiday season and both of the people who read this blog are very busy, so I’ll be quick; Indie eats everything in sight and Patty baked buns on Sunday. Have a great Christmas! Enjoy your shopping!
All right, here’s the lengthier and slightly more disgusting version: This past Sunday was by all accounts a very nice day. Patty and I were going to her family’s annual Christmas party later that evening, so she didn’t need me underfoot while she was baking homemade buns in the kitchen. The whole house was filled with the pleasant aroma of bunly goodness as two-dozen buns sat on cooling racks on the kitchen counter. At one point, Patty stated she needed to run to the store to get more yeast, so could I please clean up the cat-vomit under the piano. The request came as a bit of a surprise, as I didn’t know there was cat-vomit under the piano, but then again, it was a Sunday.
No problem, I figured. I grabbed our portable carpet cleaner and started cleaning just as Patty was backing out of the driveway on her way to the local yeast market. Our dogs, Indie & Bear were crowding around, watching intently because, hey, cat-vomit. I quickly finished up and ran downstairs to empty and clean the tank on the cleaner. In hindsight, I should have noticed that neither of the dogs followed me downstairs like they usually do. No more than five minutes passed before I heard a crash from upstairs…and not the good kind of crash one usually associates with a presumably unoccupied kitchen. Assuming the worst, I ran upstairs. I gotta be honest here, I already knew what happened before I reached the kitchen, but I was still surprised; Indie had eaten all 24 of the buns Patty had baked that morning, probably BEFORE I heard the crash. (Just a side note: I’ve muttered the phrase, “Oh God, my wife is gonna kill me,” so many times that it has lost all meaning.)
Patty arrived home a few minutes later and just rolled her eyes about our piggish piggish poochie, who was currently on a time-out. Patty remarked that I’d immediately need to make Indie vomit or she could get sick, so I ran to get some beers and Jagermeister and put on some Foghat. Luckily, Patty suggested that Hydrogen Peroxide might work better. I put Indie on her leash and brought her to the side of the house. I won’t be too graphic here, so I’ll just say that it only took 2 squirts of hydrogen peroxide and ten minutes before the buns made their puketacular reappearance, although I’m sure the neighbors walking by wish their timing had been better. (I think I heard, “Don’t look, Angela.”)
Indie was fine after her production of “Doggie-Exorcist” and Patty made more buns for the party (although, I just stuck with the chicken wings, thank you.) I also learned a valuable lesson; being a parent, even a “dog-parent,” requires constant vigilance. I will never leave my hypothetical future-baby alone for even a minute.
Of course, if the baby can scarf down 24 buns in five minutes, I’m getting the hell out of the house.