Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Gizmo's Best Week Ever

It is Wednesday, and already Gizmo is having the best week ever. Monday night, I gave Gizmo a bath. I used three times the amount of soap I thought I would. The bath water looked like chicken bullion when he was completely rinsed. It was disgusting. The first time I washed him over a month ago, the bathtub was filled with hair. I didn't wash him as well as I could have, because we didn't know each other, and I was unsure how he would react. This time around, there were maybe five hairs in the whole tub. I'm thinking that he hasn't been groomed very often. He was awesome in the bath. Just stood there and took it like a champ. When I got him out of the tub he was so excited! He ran around wildly and kept shaking off while I tried to dry him off. He was looking at me and running full steam, and hit a mirror. It was all pretty funny.

On Tuesday, Jared and I went to Savers and Target when he got home for work. When we returned, we found an empty container of Chips Ahoy on the floor in the living room. That little jerk jumped up on an end table and brought down the box! Luckily, it only had half a sleeve of cookies. Otherwise, who knows what kind of reaction he could have had.

Today, Jared went looking for the pie he bought himself on Sunday. Where was the pie? Well, the tin and box was where Jared left it --- on the floor next to the arm chair. But the pie had teleported into Gizmo's bowels. I had been noticing throughout the day that Gizmo looked fat. He looked bloated. He seemed twice the dog he once was. I found excuses for his girth. I said his clean, fluffy coat made him look bigger. I thought, perhaps, the cookies from the day before were still in effect. I also noticed he has been panting and hyper all day. Once again, I blamed the cookies. But, apparently bloated, panting and hyper is just his pie face.

Jared will never trust the dog again. He has developed a nickname for him, "rat bastard." I think it's all pretty funny, because how can you blame a dog for eating what you leave on the floor. My cookies, though? Not cool.


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