Before I tell you this story, I need you to understand something. When I tell stories, most people say "Oh, Leslyn, you're exaggerating." And then I somehow find a way to prove that I am, in fact, not exaggerating when it comes to the stories that I tell. I have also been notorious for being told "Leslyn, this would only happen to you." And that statement couldn't be more true. Okay. Just needed to get that out there.
As many of you know, Arkansas has experienced some inclement weather this weekend. Some people were saying it was going to be the worst ice storm we've seen in years, bla bla bla. So I thought to myself, "Self, you probably need to get to a place where the weather won't be as bad." So we packed up the car after the hubby got off work on Thursday, and went down to Monticello (where we used to live, and where his parents live).
The great thing about their house is that they have a bunch of land, so the pups can play and run around like crazy. They stayed outside most of the time, and we brought them in to warm up every so often.
Well, Saturday afternoon, we picked up Chip (the dachsund/yorkie… or Dorkie) to play with him, and we noticed that his stomach was crunchy. Of course, I went into panic mode, and I thought his intestines burst and that he was on his death bed (I have the tendency to think dramatic thoughts… I just don't say them out loud). He wasn't as playful as usual, and it really worried us. We decided we would call the vet first thing Monday morning. We put the pups in their crates that night, and went to bed.
DJ's dad woke us up in the middle of the night, and said that Chip was making some really strange, loud sounds downstairs. So DJ walked downstairs, and looked in Chippy's crate to see what was going on. He noticed that there were tiny rocks all over his crate.
And then he realized it….
Our stupid dog ate rocks. And pooped them out.
That's why his stomach was crunchy.
So poor DJ had to dump the poopy rocks outside, put Chip (who smelled like the poopy rocks) back in his crate, and brought the dogs upstairs to sleep in our room.
Sunday morning, I checked on Chippy. The crate was completely COVERED in poopy rocks. Again.
I've never seen anything like it, y'all.
And I, the sacrificial, wonderful spouse that I am (haha….), volunteered to clean out the rocks this time.
It. Was. Disgusting.
Meanwhile, Chippy was out rock-pooping all over their front porch. I cleaned it up too.
It was a mess.
Later on, we realized that DJ's dad dumped oil from his fish fry in the gravel drive in front of their house, so Chippy must have thought "Hm… This smells AWESOME. Let me eat the fishy rocks!"
I hope that poor dog learned his lesson and never eats rocks again.
Have a happy Monday, folks.