Let me introduce you to the little squirt who joined our dollhouse family temporarily as our latest foster dog through Second Chance Animal Rescue Society. This is Vana:
Obviously, Vana has some sort of beagle-icious mix going on. She’s just a wee thing, well under 40 pounds and reaching only to my knee if she stands up really straight. She only wants two things in all the world: snacks and snuggles. We can arrange both.
The Electrician picked her up from our foster home supervisor on his way home from work today because his job site was out near the meeting point, and Sherman, Vana, and The Electrician were playing together nicely out back by the time I got home. As soon as I saw her I told my husband we were in trouble. Miss Vana is a speckled pup too! I’ll try to get a photo of her polka dots soon, but she won’t stop wagging her whole body long enough for me to get a clear shot tonight. We all know I’m a sucker for a dotted doggy, so I hope she finds a forever family soon before I get too attached.
If Vana seems like the right kind of pooch for you and yours, please check out her information at the SCARS website. Every time we help find a loving home for a deserving animal who just needs an opportunity, we can start all over again and help save another life.
Speaking of squirts, the first reason my husband was hanging out with the dogs was to supervise their playtime as they get acquainted. The second reason is that he was too afraid to go back into the house. At some point (based on forensic evidence we’re guessing late morning) Sherman had explosive diarrhea and vomiting all over our bedroom, where he hangs out during the day. My poor hubby looked at the mess and decided it could wait a little longer until reinforcements arrived. Seriously, friends, our bedroom had become the kind of disaster zone where all you can do is stand in awe and survey the damage while fighting tears. There were moments I considered arson as a viable approach to deal with the crisis.
If ever I needed reinforcement for my decision to train my dog that the human bed is never, ever for canines, today provided those reasons. Otherwise we may have been burning our Sealy Posturepedic on the front lawn tonight. As it was, Sherman’s dog bed was beyond hope.
Sadly, my husband went barreling into the bedroom upon being greeted by the stench throughout the house, slipped in the mess, and nearly died of diarrhea-related blunt force trama. Thankfully, he has feet like snowshoes and managed to regain his footing without belly flopping in the gunk Sherman’s belly flopped all over our floor (and our wall, and our closet doors.)
I am grateful Sherman is in good spirits, which most likely means whatever needed to pass through him came out all right. The poor dog was cowering in his own filth when The Electrician arrived home, thinking he was in trouble for something over which he had zero control. We wouldn’t dream of punishing him for an accident, particularly one of this velocity. Yes, “velocity” is the correct word here: trust me. Like my sweetie said, “Our house smells like shame.” Poor us. Poor Sherm. Poor Vana, arriving like a place that smells like the world’s most visited outhouse.
We will be sleeping in the basement spare room tonight. Vana’s kennel is down there, so we can spend tonight close to her in case she needs something, and our room, despite four floor/wall washings and the sacrifice of half a “good” candle, still smells like concentrated evil. Hopefully things will clear up enough by tomorrow that we can resume our regular quarters. In the meantime, Sherman is on white rice and pumpkin, and we are ever so grateful this house has hardwood floors.
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