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We are letting Hu-Dad tell today’s story for reasons that will become obvious.
To save Queen Natasha’s dignity, I had not shared a part of our story from her ultrasound experience on Wednesday. She had a little accident in my Jeep.
In order to lie still for the ultrasound, Natasha needs a little sedative. Unfortunately, sedation includes noticing your bodily needs and I guess she just could not feel the need to go to the bathroom prior to leaving the vet’s office. The urge did not hit her until we were almost to the top of our little, curvy mountain road.
My first clue that things had gone horribly wrong was the smell. Fortunately, it was a sunny day and the windows had been removed from the Jeep. Her body just let go and left a nice little present in the back of the Jeep. We finished the last mile of the drive to the house, I escorted Natasha safely to her crate to sleep off the rest of the aftereffects of the sedation, and set about cleaning the Jeep.
Bless her, Queen Natasha does everything to perfection as you would expect of royalty. Even going to the bathroom. She produces these perfectly shaped little round balls of poo stacked ever so neatly. Don’t ask. I have no clue how.
But that perfection made cleaning easy. Her little pyramid had been knocked down by the movement of the Jeep on the ranch roads, but I just had to find all of the little round parts and remove them. No icky, sticky mess that might come from lesser canines.
The back of the Jeep is set up for the comfort of the dogs. The back seat is folded down to form a large open area for The Herd to ride (with seat belts and crates as appropriate). Because Jeep, for some odd reasons, insists on lining the back of an outdoorsy vehicle with a carpet that can only be described as dog hair velcro, we stretch a piece of carpet across the back. A dark piece of carpet that is great for camouflaging Siberian hair, muddy paw prints, and other signs of canine life.
Since Wednesday, the Jeep has been out on multiple errands. Windows all out. Back seat down. Carpet stretched across the back. We have loaded and unloaded things, though the dogs have not been in the Jeep since Natasha’s event.
Imagine my surprise Saturday when I glanced into the back of the Jeep and saw an acorn rolling around. “Hmmm,” I thought, “we must have had a perfectly planned acorn magically fall in the perfect way to land inside the Jeep.”
Now, in telling this story, I have already connected the events for you, Dear Reader. You are the audience in the horror movie begging the actor not to go into the dark basement. He flips the light switch. Nothing happens. And he starts down the steps anyway. You know it. Why doesn’t he know it?
Let me descend into the basement for your entertainment. You see, for me, three days had passed since Natasha’s little accident. All I saw was an acorn. And acorns should not be inside the Jeep. I needed to grab it and throw it out of the window.
And so I reached.
A split second before contact, my brain put everything together. And like that horror movie, I knew the monster was under the stairs. But my brain knew something my hand did not. The brain needed to communicate before it was too late. I felt my mind scream,
“THAT’S NOT AN ACORN.”
Believe it or not, this is not the first post we have ever done that connected Queen Natasha, an acorn, and poo. We have always referred to that other event as the Acorn Incident.
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