I woke to an almost silent high pitched whine. I sat upright. Then a tummy gurgle that wasn’t mine. Then the whine again.
I threw on a robe and went to Lily’s crate and she was sitting up– I let her out and she forwent the usual morning greetings that amuse me so. She ran for the door. I followed.
She ran out and ate grass, peed and then had shall we say….. A little doggy terrorist attack. [Thinking of Ricky Gervais’ euphemism for the pre-colonoscopy prepping in “Ghost Town”]
We’re snuggled in bed while I make her brown rice for breakfast. Her poor tiny tummy still making all sorts of noises…
The slightest thing wrong with this creature and I flip out.
But then I tell you all and I’m not alone.