Some Flatulence and a 3am Adventure

As you can already see by the title, this isn't going to be a story of sunshine, roses and how I slept soundly and peacefully throught the night. Considering that I am starting to type this story at 11:26pm, I'm somewhat concerned that last night's adventure may have affected my brain.

Last night Andrew went back to work. He had (finally) recuperated from whatever it was that he caught / did in Texas that caused him to be quite sick for 3 days.

Last night was also knitting night. Ok, every night is knitting night, but last night was "Knitting Night". Two friends, one old, one new, came over to sit around, talk, eat brownies and knit... and to celebrate a painted hallway and kitchen ceiling without an ominous hole. Pippin, the canine version of Tigger, was quite excited to have company. He bounced all over them and then, eventually settled down.

When he did settle down there were dire consequences. "A" suddenly exclaimed "Oh dear, I think Pippin just farted." "A" has a dog, a baby and a husband at home. She knows her stuff, so she was not being presumptuous when she blurted this out. Nor was she wrong. The three of us started gagging. I grabbed a candle that was already burning in the dining room and brought it into the room where we sitting.

Then, he farted again. Our eyes started to water. I said to "G", the new friend, "I'd just like to welcome you again to my home. I'm so glad you came - would you like a set of nose plugs or shall I just light a few more matches?"

Ladies and gentlemen, after fart #3, I was starting to fear for my new paint job. That puppy coulda peeled the paint off the wall with the demons that were coming out of his hind end last night. Gag!

So after the girls left (note: am quite glad that these two are both biologists who work in a lab with horrible fish smells), Pippin's issue seemed to go away and he snuggled up on the couch. I called Angela and we had the Bidet discussion... After bidding her goodnight and then madly blogging about our discussion (still reeling that she WROTE the word ass in my comments) it was then well past my bedtime.

I looked at Pippin. He was looked so cute and innocent as he lay curled up on the couch. I thought to myself "I shouldn't put that poor dog into his kennel. I know what I'll do, I'll take him upstairs with me. Andrew can put him into the kennel whenever he gets home." And with that, I told Pippin to follow me up the stairs.

For the next two and a half hours I was awake every 5 to 10 minutes as Pippin moved around on the bed. At 2:45am, he jumped off the bed in such a way that I realized he had to go out. I had a dog for 12 years, I know the "I've gotta pee" signs inside and out.

We plodded downstairs and I let Pippin out into the our fenced in back yard. It was a beautiful moonlit night. I stood near the back door and watched him do his "business". Then I opened the door and called to him in that whisper you reserve for night-time campground discussions, stage whispers and desperately begging a dog to come in at 2:50am.

Pippin turned and looked at me as if I was speaking in whale song. Then he spotted his tennis ball in the snow. I ducked into the kitchen and grabbed the box of Milk Bones that I have been using for this exact purpose. I opened the back door again and held out the box. I rattled the box; Pippin turned.

"Pippin, come on!" I stage whispered.

Pippin crouched down, tennis ball in mouth, butt in the air, tail wagging and a playful expression on his face.

"Pippin, Come!"

Pippin danced back and forth across the lawn in that same pose.

"Pippin!" I was begging now.

Pippin ran in circles around my back yard.

I grabbed a jacket and my shoes and went outside with the box. I walked purposefully toward Pippin. He ducked and dove around me.

I could see my breath in the air as I said, hopefully and as cheerfully as possible, "Come here, Pippin!"

Now, for those of you who don't know, despite living in the middle of town, we have a fairly large back yard. Pippin begain running crazed laps around me, never once dropping the tennis ball. I did not chase him. The thought of running around the back yard in my pajamas while holding a box of Milk Bones, though funny, even at 2:55am, was not the kind of comedy I was prepared to participate in at that point.

I turned on my heel and went inside, hoping that he would follow. He did not. So I came into the computer room, checked my email and tried to pretend it wasn't getting closer to 3am.
I would like to say that when I went back to the door again that he was ready to come inside. He was not. So I went back outside again. And again, he zigged and zagged around me. I turned and walked inside again.

This time, thankfully, when I got inside, I turned and said "Pippin, come on!"

He came in.

Needless to say, he was marched to his kennel and locked inside. I went upstairs and decided that I would not be letting Pippin sleep with me ever again!

I wish I could show you how cute that little terd is right now as he sleeps on the floor behind me. You would never believe that he had been possessed by a deranged spirit last night.

Goodnight all - I'm heading to bed. Tomorrow is Good Friday! I think Pippin's family is home tomorrow. He's actually been very good company this last week. I'll be sad to hand him back over.