Chihuahua Stew

I have been mentally writing an "Ode To Bogart" type entry to apologize to my dog for neglecting him since Ethan's birth. Today that rough draft went straight out the window.


Earlier this morning I went into our room where Bogart sleeps only to find a fresh piece of poop waiting for me in front of D's dresser. I disposed of the offensive matter, scolded Bogart as he scurried under the bed, disinfected and went on my merry way. Later I returned to put some laundry away and was greeted by a stench so rancid it burned my eyeballs. More poop. But where? I went on a wild search and finally discovered the awful, awful truth: Bogart had eaten his own feces and then vomited it up UNDERNEATH OUR BED.


I think this means we're even.