the poor pup

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This weekend we went camping with that friend of mine and a friend of hers who is from China. I’ll write more about that adventure later once I get the pictures uploaded to my computer, but until then, I will leave you with the sad story of how The Beast makes me feel guilty about being at work this morning.


Last night This morning, at 3:30—I didn’t even know that this time actually existed—we hear this horrible retching sound, all too familiar to us.

Flick on this light to see The Beast, hunched over by the bedroom door, puking some sort of goop up. It wasn’t a whole lot and we weren’t quite sure why it make her lose her lunch, so The Husband cleaned it up while I comforted The Beast and then we went back to bed.

Just as I was about to fall back asleep, the vomit-fest continued.

TH leads Feta to the bathroom so nothing would come up on the carpet.

She managed to hit the rug.

With a wad of grass the size of a baseball.

TH and I both with shocked and surprised by this, especially since it didn’t seem like she had eaten that much grass.

But The Beast seemed a heck of a lot better after that, so the three amigos slept soundly until the alarm went off way too early.

This is where we found Feta the day after my brother had left our house following The Move of the Century. She had let herself into the office to rest peacefully. If only she would let us sleep so well.

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2 responses »

    • I agree. I think it was the cropping of the picture. Or her trying to make herself look small. She’s really good at doing that. Sometimes, but not often.

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