Sadie, Part Deux

To put this story in proper context, I have to start from the beginning.

It was Friday night. I had finally convinced B to eat dinner at one of my all-time favorite Mexican restaurants. (La Puente, for those of you who haven't tried it. Fabulous smothered burritos. Trust me. They're to die for.) The kids had already spent 5 minutes strapped into their carseats while B tried to fix a broken lock on my car door. B had finished his MacGyvering and decided to run back into the house. For what, I'm not sure. I think he was looking for his car keys. But the why is irrelevant. Here is what he discovered: Sadie on the couch.

Now, you have to understand Sadie. She is an incredibly sweet dog. Very mild mannered. Downright timid when she is confronted with a group of people she doesn't know. But for whatever reason, she is also terrified of B when he is angry with her. And when I mean terrified, I mean pee-your-pants terrified. Literally. The dog will just empty her bladder when B yells. It's the darndest thing.

Okay, back to my story. So when B discovered Sadie on the couch, where she wasn't supposed to be, he sharply yelled, "Sadie!" Sadie, of course, knew she wasn't supposed to be on the couch. And she knew B had caught her in the act. So what does she do, having been caught in such an uncompromising position? She starts to pee. All over the couch.

B ran to grab her, but this only made things worse. Because now Sadie was peeing and running at the same time. Across the carpet toward the back door, and then from the back door to the garage door. Running to get away from B. Peeing all the while.

I had the misfortune to miss out on all this fun. The first hint I had that anything was amiss was when B opened the garage door and yelled that he needed a little help inside. Uh huh. A little help was something of an understatement.

When I walked in the door, it took me a moment to appreciate the full import of what had occurred in mere minutes. I took it all in. The gigantic wet spot on the couch. The trail of pee droplets that ran from the couch to the hardwood floor. And Sadie, cowering against the wall. Literally shaking. Oh yes, she knew there would be hell to pay.

I, in all my infinite wisdom, sized up the scene and decided that I needed to get Sadie outside. So I grabbed her collar and started trying to get her out the back door. Sadie was having none of that. Knowing she was in deep dog doo doo, Sadie instantly went limp, refusing to budge. So I pulled her across the floor toward the back door, only realizing after I had pushed her resisting curly-haired little body outside that I had actually dragged her through the pee all the way to the back door. Son of a &^%#%^^%.

Actually, even at the time it was all happening, I thought it was kind of funny. And this is very odd for me. I'm usually rather humorless in such situations. B wasn't laughing, I'll tell you that much. But what do you do when things are such a disaster?

Don't worry. We still went to dinner after all. After cleaning up the mess, we all jumped in the car and enjoyed yummy smothered burritos. I even splurged on a heath shake from Arctic Circle for dessert. (Mmm, heath shake. No one makes those better than Arctic Circle either).

So there's my tale of woe for this Friday night. Thought I'd share since it was too funny to keep to myself.