Nemo's Delicate Constitution

The 4th of July! What a weekend! We had the usual suspects over both days for food and playtime, grandkids up the whazoo, their parents acting like they are still 14 (‘Mom! He’s touching me’ … from the 30 year old!). Like always it is controlled chaos, but this weekend, there was gunpowder! Nemo, the dog, was a nervous wreck all weekend from all the firecrackers popping; and yes, they are illegal, but that did not stop anyone from using them in our neighborhood. You would think he would be used to hearing gunfire by now since we live in ‘da hood’, but it still made him jumpy. And, for some ungodly reason, 19 Month old Kyeli would not stop licking stuff! I am hoarse from screaming ‘No-no, Kyeli!’ as she slowly raised her brother’s sweat sock/my sandal/the cat/the mop to her lips. What the BLEEP is with licking every BLEEPING thing she comes in contact with?! Then she got an emery board, and wanted to file everything down – toenails, teeth, eyebrows – by the time she went Night-Night, I was exhausted! Saturday night was normal, gunfire and sirens in the distance, the usual. Sunday morning we were all up bright and early, little ones running around in pajamas, Nana in the kitchen, cleaning up from the night before. I had Little Zac give Nemo the left over spaghetti, got another one on the dishes, and started making breakfast. I love the sound of a house full of family! Paul was sleeping in, and the other adults were stumbling around like a scene out of ‘Dawn of the Dead’, lined up for coffee, when we heard the dog at the front door. Nemo was yelping and clawing at the door, desperately trying to get inside! One of the kids ran to open it for him, and he nearly knocked them down as he sprang inside. ‘Nemo, what the BLEEP!’ I thundered. I stuck my head around the kitchen doorway just in time to see Nemo leap to the center of the living room – and barf a stomach full of spaghetti on the carpet! For about half a second everyone froze – the only sound was saliva dripping from Nemo’s chin. Then the room exploded, grownups bellowing curse words, teenagers screaming and trying to flee the scene, younger kids gagging… and Kyeli, standing there, looking at it. She took one step toward the steaming mass and I flew into action. Well, maybe not ‘flew into action’, but I DID start screaming at the top of my lungs for somebody to kill the BLEEPING dog and someone else to clean up the BLEEPITY BLEEPING blob of barf. By the time I finished the sentence, everyone had evaporated into thin air, including Kyeli, who was scooped up by big brother as he dove thru the plate glass window and barrel rolled to safety. All the while, there stood Nemo, giving me the stink eye. This was not his first offense: for some reason he thinks that when his stomach is upset, he can only barf IN the house. The expression on his face read ‘Man, I almost didn’t make it this time! You guys need to get it together!’ He turned and strolled out the storm door that was still open from the mass exodus. Just then the bedroom door opened and in walked my Hero, my Best Friend, and the Legal Owner of the dog – my husband Paul. He ALWAYS remains calm and takes charge in perilous situations – it is his Coast Guard training. He took in the scene: retreating dog, steaming pile of barf, hysterical wife, and took immediate action by locking himself in the bathroom My only solution was to pour gas on it and set it on fire but my daughter Elanea came to the rescue and took care of it. The rest of the day was uneventful compared to that, and we had a safe and joyous Independence Day. But the BLEEPING dog is on borrowed time.