It was a beautiful sandwich. A Dagwood for a lady. Thin turkey, Colby jack cheese, little bit of mayo and brown mustard, all stacked between two slices of multigrain bread from Joe Fazio bakery (via Sam’s).
I was almost done assembling my lunch when Abby streaked down the hall saying, “I have to POOP!”
I giggled and told her I’d be right there to help.
Not thinking much about it, I left the empty kitchen and headed to the bathroom, where Abby was already finished with her business. I patted her front dry with tissue, but while I was busy trying to separate a wet wipe from the container, Abby‘s neked little tushie bolted down the hall to the living room.
“ABIGAIL! You need your butt wiped young lady!” I had no choice but to chase her with a wipe in hand.
As I passed the kitchen, from the corner of my eye I saw black. I looked in horror to see Zoe, aka Dogzilla, devouring my dainty Dagwood in one gulp.
“ZOE! You %^@&!#) $!^@#!” Surprised by getting caught, she retreated back up the stairs, mouth full, with a What? Me? I’m innocent! look on her face. My husband, Jerry appeared at the top of the stairs, and I proceeded to tell him what HIS dog did to my lunch. I stomped back through the kitchen, butt wipe still in hand, to find the elusive Abby monster.
As I approach her she points to my once beautiful cream colored couch cushion. “Looook, Mommy. Brown poop!”
Three skid marks embellished the lovely brocade pattern. I looked at the ceiling and screamed like the woman on the edge that I was. Jerry came running to find me wiping Abby’s tushie, but as I pointed to the poo streaks and told him what she said, I started laughing.
Lysol wipes removed Abby’s butt painting, but I’d strongly advise against napping on my couch. Especially with your head facing south.
And if there is any justice in the world, that stupid dog got horrible indigestion from eating my sandwich in one giant Dogzilla mouthful. She’s up for adoption if there are any takers out there.
No? Didn’t think so…