***WARNING: This post includes pictures of gross doggy vomit!***
So. The Break.
Well, suffice it to say it was an adventure. We opted to drive halfway across the country, 24 hours straight through. With two children, ages 1 and 3. With two black lab mix puppies, age 6 months.
Thanks to my dear friend Alana, the girls were relatively well-behaved and enjoyable: she lent us their portable DVD player for the trip. 17 viewings of the Little Mermaid later, we arrived at our destination.
Oh, wait. How could I forget to mention? The puppies... yeah, those little mutts... yes, we love them, yes, they are a part of our family, but honestly! We were this close to leaving them to explore in the wilds of Nebraska. Just as a warning, I will mention here that there are some rather disgusting pictures that I can't help but include in this. So if you've a weak stomach, you may want to discontinue reading... or at least close your eyes when you get close.
Why, you ask?
Well, it seems that about 30 minutes into our trip, I heard their telltale pre-barfing noise. I mentioned this to Derek, at which point he started making fun of me for thinking they had a barfing noise, and that I knew what it was. Then Something started to smell... we still weren't sure what exactly had happened (and by "we", I mean Derek) and I looked back there and Corporal was licking off his blanket. I told him what I thought happened.
"Corporal's eating his barf."
"Yeah, right, he's just chewing on the blanket."
"No, seriously, I'm positive he just vomited and is now eating it."
"Shut up-- how sure?"
"Honestly, I'm 99.9% sure that's exactly what happened."
Next gas station, we got out and upon closer inspection discovered that, (surprise!) I was right.
In any case, at least the little monster had the decency to do his thing in the corner and then clean up after himself. Kitty was less thoughtful.
Not 15 minutes down the road, we looked at each other in horror as the pungent scent filled our cramped car. We immediately found a gas station and pulled over.
This is the worst part. Well, first the funny part, then the worst.
We went to the back of the car to check the damage. We opened the back of the car and this is what greeted us:
Yes, that's Corporal's head covered in dog barf. Kitty was completely clean. They both looked up at us like, "Hey guys! What's up?"
So naturally, we let them out to see what the damage was inside. Once out, Corporal of course needed to clean himself off, so he shook. Chunks went flying everywhere- on our car, the car behind us... even on Derek. It really was a good thing it was such a funny sight, because I think Derek would have just driven away at that point otherwise. Fortunately for the pups, he was still laughing.
After he shook himself off, Derek grabbed a windshield squeegee (gross, I know) and squeegee-ed him off. The poor little monster was shivering something fierce, but he was happy to be clean.
Unfortunately for us, Corporal wasn't the only target. Kitty (and possibly Corporal had thrown up through the back of the kennel. So the blanket they were on was covered (and now in the dump). There was so much vomit, that Derek had to fork it onto a plate:
After that fiasco, they really didn't have much left to throw up, so there was just a little dry heaving- which is, of course, disgusting enough on its own- they had nasty, smelly mucous dripping from their mouths. And that was just 300 miles into our 1600 mile voyage.
As it happened, the rest of the trip went rather uneventfully. We drove safely and averted the predicted storm (which we would have hit should we have broken our trip into two days), arriving in time for the, what is it now, fifth? annual Derek and Adam Zickgraf Christmas Party?
To be continued...
