Why I was banned from Camp Bow Wow or Mom's Damm Chilli
I went to Camp Bow Wow (Doggie Day Care) recently, while not being altogether sure that course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening Mom had prepared "new chili" and I consumed massive quantity of her patented "you're definitely going to **** yourself'" road-kill chili. Tasty stuff, hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat it, the next day both of your butt cheeks WILL fall off.
Here's the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two bowls of water (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. Despite habanero peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I was unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by my dear family as 'thunder and lightning'.
Knowing that a time of reckoning HAD to come, yet not sure of just when, we bravely set off for Camp Bow Wow, my quest being a day of relaxation and play with my buddies in a nice heated building. Upon entering the building, at first all seemed normal. I was checked in, exchange the usual sniffs with the staff and prepared to head out and visit my buds... It wasn't until I was at the opposite end of the play area from the assigned dumping area when the pain hit me.
Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm referring to that 'Uh Oh, ****, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different. The habaneros in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom, they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one step in the direction of the restrooms, which would bring sweet relief, it happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.
There I stood, alone by the bridge, in the middle of the room, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud, the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I began to move across the room and out of it, just as one of the nice humans approached and said "hi Baxter, how are you today" she turned the corner and asked if I wanted a good ole scratch behind the ears.
I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate. Have you ever been torn in two different directions emotionally? Here's what I mean, and I'm sure some of you at least will be able to relate. I could've warned that poor girl, but didn't. I simply watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor, so terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running, was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me laugh . . . . BIG mistake!!!!!
Here's the thing. When you laugh, it's hard to keep things 'clamped down', if you know what I mean. With each new laugh, an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a few dogs in other rooms had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the camp and firing off a shotgun. Suddenly things were no longer funny..
'It' was coming, and I raced off through the room towards the designated dumper, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I'd make it before the grand mal assplosion took place.
Luck was on my side.. Just in the nick of time, I got to the space, began the inevitable 'Oh my God', floating above the ground because my ass is burning SO BAD, purging. One poor Poodle walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of, 'Shock and Awe'. He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly said, "Damm Gump, did it smell that bad when you ate it?', then quickly left.
Once finished, I left the area, reacquired my space to play and looked for my usual crew when an employee I had never seen approached me and said, 'Baxter, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the camp. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two, which ought to take care of the problem.'
My smirking, of course, set me off again, causing residual gasses to escape me. The employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, 'IT'S YOU!', then ran off returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.
Home again without any friends, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to hang at the City dog Park. I can't say anymore about that because Mom is in court over the whole matter.
Bastards claim they're going to have to repaint the shelter.
I went to Camp Bow Wow (Doggie Day Care) recently, while not being altogether sure that course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening Mom had prepared "new chili" and I consumed massive quantity of her patented "you're definitely going to **** yourself'" road-kill chili. Tasty stuff, hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat it, the next day both of your butt cheeks WILL fall off.
Here's the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two bowls of water (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. Despite habanero peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I was unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by my dear family as 'thunder and lightning'.
Knowing that a time of reckoning HAD to come, yet not sure of just when, we bravely set off for Camp Bow Wow, my quest being a day of relaxation and play with my buddies in a nice heated building. Upon entering the building, at first all seemed normal. I was checked in, exchange the usual sniffs with the staff and prepared to head out and visit my buds... It wasn't until I was at the opposite end of the play area from the assigned dumping area when the pain hit me.
Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm referring to that 'Uh Oh, ****, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different. The habaneros in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom, they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one step in the direction of the restrooms, which would bring sweet relief, it happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.
There I stood, alone by the bridge, in the middle of the room, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud, the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I began to move across the room and out of it, just as one of the nice humans approached and said "hi Baxter, how are you today" she turned the corner and asked if I wanted a good ole scratch behind the ears.
I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate. Have you ever been torn in two different directions emotionally? Here's what I mean, and I'm sure some of you at least will be able to relate. I could've warned that poor girl, but didn't. I simply watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor, so terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running, was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me laugh . . . . BIG mistake!!!!!
Here's the thing. When you laugh, it's hard to keep things 'clamped down', if you know what I mean. With each new laugh, an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a few dogs in other rooms had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the camp and firing off a shotgun. Suddenly things were no longer funny..
'It' was coming, and I raced off through the room towards the designated dumper, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I'd make it before the grand mal assplosion took place.
Luck was on my side.. Just in the nick of time, I got to the space, began the inevitable 'Oh my God', floating above the ground because my ass is burning SO BAD, purging. One poor Poodle walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of, 'Shock and Awe'. He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly said, "Damm Gump, did it smell that bad when you ate it?', then quickly left.
Once finished, I left the area, reacquired my space to play and looked for my usual crew when an employee I had never seen approached me and said, 'Baxter, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the camp. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two, which ought to take care of the problem.'
My smirking, of course, set me off again, causing residual gasses to escape me. The employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, 'IT'S YOU!', then ran off returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.
Home again without any friends, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to hang at the City dog Park. I can't say anymore about that because Mom is in court over the whole matter.
Bastards claim they're going to have to repaint the shelter.