A paw gets wrapped around my shoulder every night (morning rather) when I finally make it into the confines of the bedroom. Being spooned by a one hundred pound Weimaraner on a daily basis brings you close. He's my best friend and I don't know what I'd do without him. I love this dog more than I ever thought possible.
Dexter is more than 10 years old now. He's getting grayer in places he shouldn't be. Running in the yard and playing with the frisbee is now a game of fetch rather than catch. He spends more time on his side asleep than he does on his feet awake. Point is, he's getting old and I'm having a hard time dealing with it.
We've established that I love this dog and he's cool and all, yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah.
As far back as I can remember, Dexter has had a fascination with trashcans. Licking them, knocking them over and eating out of them. Apparently used tissues are a delicacy. Snot must smell like steak to a dog. Gradually over the years, he's moved on from the occasional Kleenex to an all out fetish for Q-Tips… Snot and earwax in all of it's glory.
It's become a ritual to empty bathroom trashcans before I sit down for the night. Otherwise, when I walk through the house in the morning, there will be the inevitable trail of wet, discarded toiletries from the bathroom to the family room. All of which are chewed, wet and covered in dog slobber.
Two weeks ago, my roommate points out that the dog is dragging his ass on the carpet and through the grass in the backyard. Not the way you want to start your week. Worms? Ass itch? Athlete's butt? Bug bite? I work my way through the possible scenarios without success. Time to make an appointment with the vet.
Last night I am sitting in my chair, laptop at the ready, deep in the abyss that is my work when all of a sudden I hear a crunching noise coming from the family room. This is a noise that I hear almost every night. For some reason, this time I decided to investigate.
What I assumed was the sound of a crunching dog bone or a chew toy was, in fact, the sound of my dog chewing up and and swallowing a Q-Tip. Yep, apparently the nightly ritual of trashcan emptying has been forgotten or neglected due to my mass overload of work. Dexter has been delighting in his delicacy on a regular basis.
Dragging his butt on the carpet… I'm now pretty sure he has a Q-Tip shoved up his ass sideways. This is going to be an interesting trip to the vet.
God damn dog.