Subj:.....Jasper
And The Yeast Rolls (S622c)
From: LABLaughsClean on 11/25/2008
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We have a fox terrier
by the name of Jasper. He came to us in
the summer of 2001
from the fox terrier rescue program. For
those of you, who
are unfamiliar with this type of adoption,
imagine taking in
a 10 year old child about whom you know
nothing and committing
to doing your best to be a good
parent.
Like a child, the
dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He
will only sleep on
the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled
as close to my face
as he can get without actually performing
a French kiss on
me.
Lest you think this
is a bad case of 'no discipline,' I
should tell you that
Perry and I tried every means to break
him of this habit
including locking him in a separate bedroom
for several nights.
The new door cost over $200. But I digress.
Five weeks ago we
began remodeling our house. Although the
cost of the project
is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years
overdue AND it got
me out of cooking Thanksgiving for family,
extended family,
and a lot of friends that I like more than
family most of the
time.
I was assigned the
task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast
dinner rolls for
the two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend.
I am still cursing
the electrician for getting the new oven
hooked up so quickly.
It was the only appliance in the
whole darn house
that worked, thus the assignment. I made
the decision to cook
the rolls on Wed evening to reheat
Thurs am. Since
the kitchen was freshly painted, you can
imagine the odor.
Not wanting the rolls to smell like
Sherwin Williams
#586, I put the rolls on baking sheets
and set them in the
living room to rise for a few hours.
Perry and I decided
to go out to eat, returning in about
an hour. The
rolls were ready to go in the oven.
It was 8:30 PM.
When I went to the living room to retrieve
the pans, much to
my shock one whole pan of 12 rolls was
empty. I called
out to Jasper and my worst nightmare became
a reality.
He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like
a combination of
the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin
Tire man wrapped
up in fur. He groaned when he walked. I
swear even his cheeks
were bloated.
I ran to the phone
and called our vet. After a few seconds
of uproari ous laughter,
he told me the dog would probably
be OK, however, I
needed to give him Pepto Bismol every
2 hours for the rest
of the night. God only knows why I
thought a dog would
like Pepto Bismol any more than my
kids did when they
were sick. Suffice it to say that by
the time we went
to bed the dog was black, white and pink.
He was so bloated
we had to lift him onto the bed for the
night.
We arose at 7:30 and
as we always do first thing; put the
dog out to relieve
himself. Well, the dog was as drunk as
a sailor on his first
leave. He was running into walls,
falling flat on his
butt and most of the time when he was
walking his front
half was going one direction and the
other half was either
dragging the grass or headed
90 degrees in another
direction.
He couldn't lift his
leg to pee, so he would just walk and
pee at the same time.
When he ran down the small incline
in our back yard
he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended
up running into the
fence.
His pupils were dilated
and he was as dizzy as a loon. I
endured another few
seconds of laughter from the vet
(second call within
12 hours) before he explained that
the yeast had fermented
in his belly and that he was
indeed drunk.
He assured me that,
not unlike most binges we humans go
through, it would
wear off after about 4 or 5 hours and
to keep giving him
Pepto Bismol.
Afraid to leave him
by himself in the house, Perry and I
loaded him up and
took him with us to my sister's house
for the first Thanksgiving
meal of the day.
My sister lives outside
of Muskogee on a ranch, (10 to 15
minute drive).
Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less
12) and drunk dog
leaning from the back seat onto the
console of the car
between Perry and I, we took off.
Now I know you probably
don't believe that dogs burp, but
believe me when I
say that after eating a tray of risen
unbaked yeast rolls,
DOGS WILL BURP. These burps were pure
Old Charter.
They would have matched or beat any smell in
a drunk tank at the
police station. But that's not the
worst of it.
Now he was beginning
to fart and they so smelled like
baked rolls.
God strike me dead if I am not telling the
truth! We endured
this for the entire trip to Karen's,
thankful she didn't
live any further away than she did.
Once Jasper was firmly
placed in my sister's garage with
the door locked,
we finally sat down to enjoy our first
Thanksgiving meal
of the day. The dog was the topic of
conversation all
morning long and everyone made trips
to the garage to
witness my drunken dog, each returning
with a tale of Jasper's
latest endeavor to walk without
running into something.
Of course, as the old adage goes,
'what goes in must
come out' and Jasper was no exception.
Granted if it had
been me that had eaten 12 risen, unbaked
yeast rolls, you
might as well have put a concrete block
up my behind, but
alas a dog's digestive system is quite
different from yours
or mine. I discovered this was a
mixed blessing when
we prepared to leave Karen's house.
Having discovered
his 'packages' on the garage floor, we
loaded him up in
the car so we could hose down the floor.
This was another naive
decision on our part. The blast of
water from the hose
hit the poop on the floor and the poop
on the floor with
stood the blast from the hose. It was
like Portland cement
beginning to set up and cure.
We finally tried to
remove it with a shovel. I (obviously
no one else was going
to offer their services) had to get
on my hands and knees
with a coarse brush to get the
remnants off of the
floor. And as if this wasn't degrading
enough, the darn
dog in his drunken state had walked
through the poop
and left paw prints all over the garage
floor that had to
be brushed too.
Well, by this time
the dog was sobering up nicely so we
took him home and
dropped him off before we left for our
second Thanksgiving
dinner at Perry's sister's house.
I am happy to report
that as of today (Monday) the dog is
back to normal both
in size and temperament. He has had
a bath and is no
longer tricolor. None the worse for wear
I presume.
I am also happy to report that just this
evening I found 2
risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside
my closet door.
It appears he must
have come to his senses after eating 10
of them but decided
hiding 2 of them for later would not be
a bad idea.
Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to:
'How to clean unbaked
dough from the carpet.'
And how was your day. |