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You’ve Made Your Point, Wonderbutt

Wonderbutt Tries to Get a few Pushups in Before His Weigh-In at the Vet - Or is He Trying to get to the Krispy Kremes?

Wonderbutt is having stomach problems.  It could have something to do with the piece of panty hose he ingested tonight.  Or the strings he managed to swallow off his rope toy yesterday.  Or the three low-cal dog treats he got at the vet today.

Talk about good times.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  Both Wonderbutt and Mrs. P.I.B. needed the same vaccination so I reasoned that it made sense to take them both at the same time.  I think grabbing the snake by the neck the other day made me feel like I could do just about anything.

To add to the fun and games, I brought Dimples along.  The intention was for her to help out.  Uh huh.

Surprisingly, Wonderbutt was quite well-behaved at the vet.  He didn’t lose control of his bladder as soon as the receptionist said his name, as he usually does.  And he didn’t sulk when the vet said that he, a short bulldog, weighed only one less pound than Mrs. P.I.B., a quite tall golden-retriever, and that Wonderbutt could probably stand to lose about ten pounds.  He even it kept together when we heard how much this was all going to cost.

Oh yeah, that was my cue to lose control of my bladder.

So we all piled back into the car and headed home.  Two minutes into the 15 min. trip, there wafted a very nasty smell up to the front seat.  Wonderbutt had passed some obnoxiously noxious gas.

Nope. Worse than that.  And worse than the bladder thing. “Ewwww!” was Dimples’ helpful response.  Can’t really say I blame her since his fragrant deposit was on the floor behind me, and she was seat-belted next to it.

So I stopped at a dumpster, and scooped Wonderbutt’s Revenge for Getting Vaccinated to where it belonged.

Two minutes later, the smell was no better.  In fact, it was even more abominable.  Apparently, he hadn’t been finished getting his message across.

I refused to stop again, reasoning that, at this rate, it was going to take us 24 hours to get home. (That probably isn’t mathematically correct, but I have to wait until next week to pose the problem to my gifted fifth graders.)

We finally made it to our driveway, and after much confusion about how to exit the car without spreading the wealth all over the upholstery, got the dogs into the house.  I did my best to oust the stain and the smell before the Texas sun baked it in permanently.

Walked back into the house and nearly water-skied across the kitchen floor on Wonderbutt’s next gift.

Apparently, he had had second thoughts about that vet bill.

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