Inmate Central

Posted by LWR (A) on January 29, 2004 at 20:12:06

Found this floating around....author unknown

We have a fox terrier by the name of Jasper. He came to us in the summer of 2001
from the fox terrier rescue program. For those of you who are not familiar with
this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10yr. old child whom
you know nothing about and committing to doing your best to be a good parent.

Like a child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on
the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without
actually performing a French kiss on me. Lest you think this is a bad case of
'no discipline,' I should tell you that Perry and I tried every means to break
him of this habit including locking him in a separate bedroom for several
nights. The new door cost over $200. But I digress. Five week's ago we began
remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project is downright ob! noxious,
it is 20yrs' overdue, AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving for family,
extended family, and a lot of friends that I like more than family most of the
time. I was, however, assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast
dinner rolls for the two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend. I'm still cursing
the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly; the only
appliance in the whole darn house that worked, thus the assignment.

I made the decision to cook the rolls on Wednesday evening to reheat on Thursday
morning. Since the kitchen was freshly painted you can imagine the odor. Not
wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams latex paint #586, I put the
rolls on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for 5 hours.
After 3 hours, Perry and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about an hour.
An hour later the rolls were ready to go in the oven. It was
8:30pm. When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock!
k, one whole pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Jasper and my worst
nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a
combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in
fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated. I ran to
the phone and called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious laughter, he
told me the dog would probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol
every 2 hours for the rest of the night. God only knows why I thought a dog
would like Pepto Bismol any more than my kids did when they were sick. Suffice
to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. He was
so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for the night.

Naively thinking the dog would be all better by morning was very stupid on my
part. We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; put the dog out to
relieve himself. Well, the darn dog was as drunk as a sailor on his fir! st
leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and most of the time
when he was walking his front half was going one direction and the other half
was either dragging on the grass or headed 90 degrees in another direction. He
couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and pee at the same time.
When he ran down the small incline in our back yard he couldn't stop himself and
nearly ended up running into the fence. His pupils were dilated and he was as
dizzy as a loon.

I endured another few seconds of laughter from the vet (second call within 12
hours) before he explained that the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he
was indeed drunk. He assured me that, not unlike most binges we
humans go through, it would wear off after about 4 or 5 hours and to keep giving
him Pepto Bismol. Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, Perry and I
loaded him up and
took him with us to my sister's house for the first Thanksgiving meal of the
day. My sister li! ves outside of Muskogee on a ranch, (10 to 15 minute drive).
Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from the
back seat onto the console of the car between Perry and I, we took off. Now I
know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I say that
after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP. These burps
were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any smell in a drunk tank
at the police station. But that's not the worst of it. Now he was beginning to
fart and they smelled like baked rolls. God strike me dead if I am not telling
the truth! We endured this for the entire trip to Karee's, thankful she didn't
live any further away than she did.

Once Jasper was firmly placed in my sister's garage with the door locked, we
finally sat down to enjoy our first Thanksgiving meal of the day. The dog was
the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to
the garage to witness my dru! nk dog, each returning with a tale of Jasper's
latest endeavor to walk without running into something.

Of course, as the old adage goes, "what goes in must come out" and Jasper was no
exception. Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen, unbaked yeast
rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block up my behind, but alas a
dog's digestive system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this
was a mixed blessing when we prepared to leave Karee's house. Having discovered
his "packages" on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could hose
down the floor. This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water
from the hose hit the poop on the floor and the poop on the floor withstood the
blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure.
We finally tried to remove it with a shovel. I (obviously no one else was going
to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to
get the remn! ants off of the floor.
And as if this wasn't degrading enough, the darn dog in his drunken state had
walked through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had
to be brushed too.
Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we took him home and
dropped him off before we left for our second Thanksgiving dinner at Perry's
sister's house. I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back
to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer
tricolor. None the worse for wear I presume. I am also happy to report that just
this evening I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door.
It appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided
hiding 2 of them for later would not be a bad idea.

Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to "How to clean unbaked dough from
the Carpet."

And how was your Day?