Tiffany being here means many things.
Laughter every 10-20 minutes....
Sushi......
Peaches.....
Funny presents....
Loss of walking floor space in my apartment......
Pancakes bigger then your head.....
A dog with an eating disorder....Just to name a few.
I got back to the apartment this morning at 6:30am (remember I'm still house and dog sitting for someone else). It looks like a bomb has gone off in the living room and into the kitchen. That's ok. I'm focused on coffee.
'Amanda, Take Pooh King outside pleeeeaaze'
I'm walking down the hall and hear 'Go with auntie' coming from under the sheets. Just before the door I look down to see that the dog threw up.
'Tiff your dog threw up in the hall.' (actually not really that surprising, he threw up yesterday too. 1 in 6 family members have an eating disorder, and Pooh King is ours. Tiffany says it's because he's nervous. I say her making excuses for him only makes the problem worse.)
Flash forward an hour later as I'm coming down the hall again and step in dried dog throw up.
'Tiff!' The dog throw up!'
She looks at me from around the corner. 'Oh please your acting like it's the worst thing you've ever stepped in. There are like 15 thousand worse things that you have already stepped in your lifetime.'
'15 thousand? Please. Where do you think I hang out at?'
1 comment:
Come on, dog vomit doesn't dry in an hour. That was a missed spot from yesterday. And he is nervous. He thinks Cookie's going to eat his food.
And, by the way, I lost the battle to eat that whole pancake.
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