[I lied. I'm back. This is too funny not to share. Err...well, "funny" is relative, right?]
So, last night my sister came over for our annual Christmas cookie-bake.
When she came in the door (arms full of groceries), I was down there switching the laundry [Gasp. I know.], and Miss EmeKay was watching peacefully.
She saw her Aunt Susie and got really excited. So, naturally, Susan got on the ground with her and started trying to coax her to crawl towards her.
We were totally, and utterly ENGROSSED in this situation:
[and yea. We.are.crazy. We sound like insane-o's. I was behind the camera. She was the one yelling, "get on your knees!"---we'll hold the crude jokes, ok?]
I know. So close, right?
It's cute, none the less.
But while we were completely and utterly
acting like idiots into the almost-crawling situation, my dog decided to get into some shenanigans.
We turn around to go up the steps to the kitchen, when we see it.
A half eaten stick of butter.
LITERALLY, right behind us (like, a foot behind us) he got into the bags of groceries, and managed to eat 2oz of butter including the wrapper.
My dog is 12lbs. That is a heckofalot of lard for one tiny pup.
We joked while making cookies as we kept catching Mac off in the corner acting delusional on a fat-high. He was acting all sorts of lethargic, and a little hazy at best. We even joked a little that "oh we'll probably wake up to diarrhea in the middle of the night."
[Hardy-har-har. Right?] NOT.
Fast forward to 4am this morning. I was getting a little hot in bed and decided to fling the covers off me and put my leg outside the covers. But then, I felt something. Oh my flipping gosh. I FELT SOMETHING.
And then? I started smacking my husband to "OH MY GOSH GET UP!!! I THINK MAC POOPED IN OUR BED AND I JUST STEPPED IN ITTTT!"
He was all "huh?" and turned on the lights. And then the classic murder-scene/scary-scene music in movies became our real life.
Flicking on the lights at 4am because of dog poop is NOT my idea of fun. I'd rather be up with a baby any day. Honest. But Eme? She was sleeping peacefully in her crib.
After I hopped (yes, I hopped) to the bathroom & stuck my foot in the sink to wash off the dog crap--we began stripping the bed at fourflippin'AM, doing laundry, getting cleaned up, etc.
I assure you, we were NOT laughing, then. In fact, more like muttering curse words.
The little hopping/almost crawl/she's so close video was worth it. I think. But, good Lord. Butter & dogs? Do.not.mix.
Take it from me.