They romped and stomped and bounded. They impersonated a thundering herd. They hunted mice in a staccato duet–Gertie: pounce, lunge, point and freeze. Duke: spring, stomp, freeze–alert. Back and forth.
But after the ears-flapping-in-the-wind, jowls-bouncing joy came the make-me-gag, Could-You-Be-More-Disgusting? incident. Apparently, during his third trip to the farm, when I was so proud that he was bold enough to explore the woods on his own, Duke ate some deer dung. But I didn’t notice when he emerged from the woods, when I could have washed his mouth out in the pond. No, I didn’t find out until later–when he barfed it up on the living room carpet. I will spare you the details, but something meant to come out the back end of a wild animal projecting from the front end of a dog is just as gross as you would imagine. And I spent more than an hour blotting the carpet. Ugh. But I suppose it was worth it for all of that happiness; I’ve just told Duke that if he’s going to eat poop, he should have the decency to keep it down.
What’s the most disgusting thing your dog has done?