At about 4 o’clock this morning I began to smell something. It stirred me from my sleep – dreaming strange about characters on General Hospital that we didn’t know were crippled but when I met them in person, their legs were all shriveled up and they stood about 4 feet tall… strange – anyway, I was woken up rather hastily by a strange smell and I couldn’t quite place it other than to me in my sleepy state it smelled like burnt toast. I paid no matter and tried to keep sleeping. An hour later my sister came out from her room and peered over the railing of the stairs. I knew that wasn’t a good sign. She assured me that what was down there was mostly solid. It wasn’t.
UGH… nothing like having a geriatric dog. I have a couple of them. And some days they just can’t control themselves. Usually though it’s my bigger dog and as many know, bigger dogs make bigger messes. It was all over the floor by the front door and it was gross. I just love picking that stuff up and mopping at 5 in the morning. Thanks, dog…
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