…or grandpa…

When people have diarrhea, they find a place to deal with it and they stay there. It almost paralyzes every muscle except your sphincter, which puckers up like grandma when she leans in to give you a kiss. The plan is to find a toilet and stay there until your bum stops firehosing over-digested tacos.

Puppies, on the other hand, try to run away from diarrhea while looking behind them to see what’s going on. I learned that they run much faster and with improved cornering ability on carpet than on laminate flooring.

Last night, we gave Alice some wet puppy food mixed in with her regular dry puppy food. It was a treat. Her mouth liked it. Her digestive tract did not. A few hours later, the wet food exited her body looking much the same as it did entering her body, except it was runnier and had a different bouquet.

I asked Oui to use paper towels to try and scoop up what he could while I prepared the carpet cleaner. I could hear him gagging and tried not to laugh out loud. He told me it was like spreading margarine on toast, if margarine smelled like a pig farm. I laughed. He didn’t think it was that funny. He washed his hands for 10 solid minutes.

Today, I’m power washing the carpet cleaner with Lysol.

Merry Christmas. I got you some gravy.