Nothing makes me move faster than that URP URP URP sound of a dog about to vomit.
Louie used to find and eat all sorts of nasty things. He vomited often and help speed up my reaction time.
Fiona was less opportunistic.
Lucy, like my first basset Clara, rarely vomits. And yet, it happened yesterday.
There we were, curled up on the sofa on a hot summer afternoon, enjoying the cool of the air-conditioned house. I was engrossed in the book I was reading. Lucy was curled up sleeping deeply – until she wasn’t.
In a flash she was off the sofa and the URP URP URP began.
I threw aside my book (Posted by John David Anderson) and leapt to action. I grabbed the paper towels, a trash can, and the Nature’s Miracle spray. By the time I returned, Lucy had finished, but had not yet begun the canine “ritual” that often follows. I was that quick.
Although I am a gagger, I have mastered the art of cleaning dog vomit without gagging. It mostly involves lots of paper towels and turning my head to one side. And lots of breath holding.
Within a few moments, Lucy was curled up again, none the worse for wear. I washed my hands a few times, changed out the paper towels covering “the spot”, and washed my hands a few more times. Then, I, too, was curled up on the sofa, reading as if nothing had happened.
booksandbassets 