If you missed the evening news, you might not know the end of the world happened tonight.
Well, in truth, it was far more serious than that.
What happened was that — okay, women readers, you should stop reading now and go buy shoes or something — we found a maggot on the hall tile just inside the front door.
Ack, I know.
It was smaller than the human eye could detect, well, smaller than a man’s eye could detect, but the GM Finance detected it in a BIG WAY.
So for HOURS we cleaned and sanitized and disinfected and sterilized the hallway, in addition to every part of the house in general proximity to the front door, including the roof, basement and back yard.
We used Lysol, Pinesol, bleach, alcohol, agent orange and napalm.
Then, just to be safe, the GM Finance burned our house to the ground.
Not that she is fussy about hygiene, or anything.
Despite having done this scorched earth disinfecting, she won’t get a moment’s sleep tonight. She will be killing the Moosedawg in her mind, a million terrible ways.
Although forensic tests have proven that the Crack Puppy does Number Two’s and could be culpable, the GM Finance knows this “situation” has Moosedawg written all over it.
We might have mentioned before how much the GM Finance loathes Buddy, and how, after one of his major sins years ago, she drew a picture of him being roasted over a fire, like a side of beef.
Historical grounds for this loathing include: Buddy’s general humongous moosiness; that he ate her Missal one morning before Mass; that he dug up her garden 10,000 times; that his urine has killed every blade of grass in the front yard; that he is a pooping machine; that he sheds bales of hair; and that he has not stopped barking since we got him in 1999.
Still, after 13 years of harsh words and mean looks, Buddy STILL wags his tail when the GM Finance enters the room, saying as loudly as he can, “Hi! Want to be friends?”.
She does not.
Tonight, she gave me hundreds if not thousands of reasons why she will NOT be his friend.
So we listened. And empathized. And apologized. Profusely. A lot. Until the early morning hours.
And after enduring this venting, with great love and affection, we said to the GM Finance:
“Shut up already about the Moosedawg!”
Ha! Of course we are kidding! We might have thought this. But we would never say it out loud. In fact, forget that we even mentioned it. Because we do not have a death wish.
What we did do after the anti-Moosedawg tirade was try to be reasonable and logical. We talked about what a loving, sweet moose of a dawg Buddy is.
How there have been burglaries elsewhere in our neighborhood but NONE on Buddy’s watch.
How he has always been completely docile and gentle around no fewer than two Shih-Tzus and the Crack Puppy, who were always underfoot.
How he has eaten, with great gusto and appreciation, every table scrap ever cooked in this house, including some that the GM Finance once poured on top of a huge slug that was in Buddy’s bowl, just to see if he would eat it (he did) and possibly croak (he did not).
Then, due to the gravity of tonight’s “situation”, and the very real chance that a death sentence could be handed down, we threw ourselves on the mercy of the court.
Note: there is NO mercy in the court. Not one iota.
Miraculously, we won a temporary stay of execution. But the Moosedawg and I both know we are on borrowed time.
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