Sunday, June 14, 2009

Christmas

I'll just say that this was one of the "good ones" for me and I'll remember it fondly. We were able to have John's family over on Christmas Eve and had antipasto salad and rigatoni and his mom had wine. Or actually, the wine had her, as an hour later she was nearly asleep on the loveseat. Nothing says the holidays like getting Mommy drunk.
My parents made the rare trip to my house for the holiday so I didn't have to spend it driving in the car for hours. We got them an extremely nice room at the Sheraton Suites down the road and I suggested they leave their dachshund "Willie" in the room because our condo has a very strict "No Dogs" policy, and that includes guests. So guess who drives up with the dog in the front seat?
"Mom, I thought you were going to leave him in the room!"
"Well, I was afraid he'd start barking and crying. We'll just leave him here in the car."
"You can't do that! Not only will I have the condo board on my ass, but the SPCA will be here for leaving a dog in the car! Just carry him inside."
And so...an hour into our visit, the dog jumps up on my lap and drops a slobbery tennis ball into my hands for some fetch. And then the smell hits me. The most god-awful stinky breath I have ever smelled on an animal and now it was all over my hands.
"Oh my, I think he was licking his anal gland. You know they have to discharge that at the vet regularly. It must be bothering him."
I ran to the bathroom to wash off the offending "Eau de Willie". My mother insisted it wasn't on the couch or rug, but I had to smell anyway. Luckily, it was just his breath, but I wouldn't let the skunk-dog back on the couch again.
We had a wonderful dinner and were enjoying some coffee in the living room, admiring all the presents that scattered the floor. My dad was throwing one the dog's toys to him and he'd run down the hall and back, over, and over, and over. And then the smell hits me. Again. Only this time, it smelled like shit. I thought for a second that one of the folks had cut the cheese but then I saw the extra large Tootsie-Roll wobble over to the tree. The skunk-dog had just dumped three perfect turds on our living room carpet.
"Oh, I knew that was going to happen when he started running around. He gets his little insides all worked up and it just happens."
Fortunately, they were of the firm consistency, so clean up was a breeze. No thanks to John who threw open the door to the porch and then ran out gagging or my parents who were in tears laughing so hard. Some Lysol sprayed and wiped on the offending areas that were breached and everything was back to normal.
Mom and Dad left for their hotel room shortly afterwards, with "El Stinko" in their arms.
"I promise we'll leave him behind if we visit again. Thanks for everything, we had a lovely time."

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