Racing to get a dog who is about to barf to the door should be an Olympic sport. Seriously. It takes speed, agility, obstacle avoidance, and more than a few miraculous leaps and bounds. Take Monday, for example.
I’m happily composing some bad poetry for your enjoyment, when Ginko races into my office, making THAT FACE.
I’m sure your dog has one too. It’s called “Snoopy Lips” at our house. Ginko’s face gets pinched, his eyes wild. And, his mouth? Well, it looks something like this
~~~~~~, all wavy and stretching back toward his ears.I slid my chair back, grateful for tile floors, and turned to sprint. Unfortunately, Lilly — who was asleep under my desk startled and shot out too. We tangled like wet spaghetti out of the starting blocks.
I tripped, nearly clocking myself in the head on my office door’s knob, but I regained my footing and balance as I rounded right into the hall, then left through the entryway. A panicked Ginko danced just inside the door, waiting for me to free him.
He was already heaving and needed out … this … very … second.
All 3 of us piled outside. Ginko ran over to the grass and stood there.
“Oh, great,” I thought. “False alarm.” I practically injure myself AND Lilly for no reason.
But, then the heaving started again. Poor Ginko.
You’d think he’d figure out how a belly full of mule poop makes him feel, but no.
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