Monday, December 20, 2010

Adventures in Pet-Sitting, part 734

I get home today between jobs to grab dinner and hang out with my charge (referred to from here on out as B). B is a sweet golden-doodle who loves to play ball in the afternoons. I go outside to start playing with her and I notice that she looks filthy and I'm worried she's started to dig by the fence. She's excited to see me (noted by my many cries of "DOWN B! DOWN B! B!!!"). I go to grab her ball (the squeaky toy from h. that I mentioned in an earlier post) but she wants to play with something else.


She's probably not dirty from digging to escape, no no. She's probably dirty from getting this little guy. Normally I'm not grossed out by these sort of things, but when I have an oversized puppy leaping into my face with it in her mouth and dropping it on my foot, it brings out the squeamish factor.

Now I need to go deal with this, and convince her to leave it outside.

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