Remembering the pets I had as a child, and with the approach of Easter comes a story that still makes me giggle.
Mom and Dad went to the animal shelter and brought home a nice looking dog on Friday. We often went to the grandparent’s house on the weekend for dinner. It took 35 to 45 minutes to travel from our home to their house at the coast.
Everything went fine during the trip over with Mom, Dad, me and the dog sharing the bench seat in the cab of Dad’s 1954 Ford pickup. But, the return trip was not so pleasant.
The new dog had a bad case of methane explosions that erupted every five to ten minutes. Each time Mom would say, “Al, pull over. The dog has to go to the bathroom.”
The drizzling rain was cold and bringing a wet dog back into the truck just added to an already odiferous situation. The dog was banished to the floorboard and continued to have gas attacks. Finally, after about four pit stops along the road we arrived home.
Mother gave the dog some concoction to make it smell better, I guess, and we all retired for the night with pup-dog confined to the back porch.
The next morning I got up to check on the dog. The porch floor was covered with smelly liquid poop. Relating this to Mom between outbursts of laughter, my story of the dog’s antics resulted in me having to clean up the mess. The dog was returned to the animal shelter that day.
Later, we learned that the Easter egg hunt at the grandparent’s house the week before had left a few hard boiled eggs unclaimed. The poor dog had evidently found and eaten a rotten egg or two!
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