Sam the schnauzer

My silver schnauzer, years ago when I had one named Sam(antha), found a huge bag of M&Ms one night and decided Santa left them just for her. Huge. Prior to bed that night, I had a perfect, tan, faux suede sofa. Perfect. In the morning, I had a dog in hiding — I don’t care if she was “under the weather” under the bed — a lumpy pile of digested chocolate, and a faux suede sofa with a ginormous brown polka dot right in the middle of a seat cushion. No, not the kind that turns over. Are you kidding me?

Did I mention that this was years ago, as in pre-google days? I know, I know, it’s hard to remember that far back. If you’re like me, no sooner than an “I wonder how to…” comes into your head, you’re on google. I believe it might also have been before ginormous was a word, though Merriam Webster claims that’s not so.

To make a long story short, there must have been a miracle finish on the sofa; it cleaned right up. Therefore, the dog lived, though I sent her away to live with a friend who didn’t mind shampooing the bitch every time she rolled in rabbit poop. And I use bitch in the correct, non-demeaning way, I swear I do. Have you ever smelled warm, smeared rabbit poop? And had it jump on you, all tail-wagging and happy to see you and share this olfactory delight? You have no idea. Unless you work in a landfill, maybe, on a sweltering hot day in July.

I so don’t miss having a dog.

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