Naughty Little Doggie
Copied from my LJ-8/16/06WARNING: The following post contains material some readers may find objectionable. If you are easily offended or grossed out, read on AT YOUR OWN RISK. That warning goes double for anyone in my family!
A nice bit of Sunday afternoon sex segued into a minor trial last weekend. I returned to the bedroom after washing up to retrieve the condom and the tissue in which I disposed of it. To my horror, it was gone. Fellow pet owners will understand this can mean only one thing: the dog got it!
Cleo was skulking around looking a bit sheepish, but we could find no evidence of the missing rubber on her breath (you know that nasty hot latex smell, right?), her person, or anywhere else in the house. Obviously, my first concern was that she may have swallowed it and could develop a bowel obstruction. I started to call the vet, but then I realized I'd have to explain that I had (only for a few fleeting seconds, I swear) left a used rubber where my dog could grab it. And I was thinking gee, won't that be a fun chat. She probably thinks I am a spaz already because we called so often with concerns after she spayed Cleo. Since neither of us actually observed her swallowing it, it's entirely possible I could confess all this to my mortified vet and get the dog xrayed only to find absolutely nothing- doubleplus horror.
Then I thought of other, more selfish and superficial concerns. We had a dinner guest coming over and I had gone to some trouble preparing the meal. I had toiled to perfect my homemade vinaigrette, in which a salad of onions and grape tomatoes from our little garden was macerating. I had created a delightful barbecue sauce full of purple bell peppers and pineapple and onions to serve over the thickest pork chops I have ever grilled. There was fresh corn on the grill, ready to be shucked and slathered with my delicious herbed butter. There were hot biscuits too, and a blender full of pina coladas made from scratch. So what if, as I walked in bearing my brand new serving platter piled high with Hawaiian grilled pork chops, Cleo trotted into the dining room with the tattered, santorum-stained remains of our shameful gay love between her teeth? What if she vomited it up?
Fortunately she stayed out of the dining room and I managed to get through dinner without freaking out. Since she seemed to be fine, we decided the best course of action was just to observe her closely and remain alert for any change in her eating or elimination patterns. She continued to have a hearty appetite and, um, everything else appeared to be going okay. Meanwhile I kept searching for the missing condom. I looked in every dark corner of the basement, under every piece of furniture, covered all the usual bone and toy hiding places both indoors and out. Nothing.
Then Paul found it today, when he was cleaning up the dog poop in preparation to mow the yard. Apparently she passed it with flying colors.
Music: Bent-Programmed for Love
Mood: Relieved
posted by Sgt Howie @ 7:46 PM
Comments: 0
