I came downstairs the other day to find that Snowflake had puked. And not just “puked”. I mean…barfed. I mean…it was a complete and utter barfing. All over his cage, all over his blankets, all over the carpet, all over everything. It was actually twice as foul as you are trying not to imagine right now. If that dog weighs 10 pounds, 8 pounds of him were laying at my feet.
So…the question remains. Why? Why did he barf in such a spectacular fashion? Is that what you’re asking yourself? Well, therein lies our tale…
The day started like any other…that is to say, I can’t really recall. What I can recall, though, was that it was my families’ weekly Sunday night dinner. To switch it up, for this particular Sunday, the family collectively decided to have breakfast. No! Not breakfast, as in eat at 7 am all miserable and shit, barely acknowledging each other’s presence. Rather, to have breakfast for dinner. Which is a great flippin idea, if you haven’t ever done it. And let’s be honest here, if you haven’t ever had breakfast for dinner, then you should be committed.
But, for now, that’s really neither here nor there. If I remember later, though, I’ll be sure to give you hell about it.
My job for this meal, besides hosting the dinner itself, was cooking the bacons. Two pounds of bacon, to be exact. Sounds like a lot, right? Believe you me, it ain’t. Your friendly neighborhood jman can pretty much eat a pound of bacon myself. That’s if no one’s around or looking. So, for 6 adults and 50 million kids (49.6 of those kids being mine), it’s not really that much.
What IS too much? The fat two pounds of bacon produces. And because “you can’t” just dump bacon fat down the drain, I poured all that delicious leftover animal product into an empty soup can and left it on the sink to cool, to be then disposed of “properly” at some “later” date.
“I’m telling you, you would not believe how much that little dog barfed.” I exclaimed rather incredulously to Kelly Marie over the phone.
“Oh yea?” Kelly Marie replied. It didn’t take a mind reader to figure out she was barely feigning interest.
“Yes!” I didn’t care if she cared or not, though. She was going to hear the depths of my disgust. “It was all over the place! It even had chunks of unchewed dog food in there. There’s something wrong with that animal. Why doesn’t he chew his food? He’s worse than the kids.”
“Huh!” Kelly Marie continued to fake interest.
“I can’t image what he ate to make him throw up like that.” I continued. “It’s not like he got into anything, as far as I can tell.”
There was a brief pause on the other side of the line. “Oh…” Kelly Marie finally managed.
I looked at the phone, as if she could actually see my “what do you know” look. “What?!?!?” I asked.
“Ummm. It may have been the bacon fat from dinner.” She quietly suggested.
“What? How would he have gotten that?”
“Because I put the can you left on the sink, in the recyclable bucket outside.”
“Ughhhhh! For real?!?!?” I said, my stomach turning over at the thought of all that bacon grease being lapped up.
“Yea.” Kelly Marie said, a bit meekly. “Sorry…”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head sorrowfully. “Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the dog.”
“Oh. I’ll be sure to.” she said sarcastically.
“Actually, I take that back. You should apologize to me! I had to clean up all the puke.”
“Here we go…” Kelly Marie replied. I bet she was rolling her eyes, too, when she said it.
So…given the opportunity, would Snowflake do it all over again?
Images courtesy of:
Breakfast plate: samsplacelivonia.com
Bacon fat: balancedbites.com
Red curtain: nobodysnormal.wordpress.com