Earlier this evening, I took John and Yoko for a post-dinner stroll. We didn’t make it one house length before Dumb and Dumber plunged their pilfering faces into a cluster of dead weeds. Almost instantly, Brick started sneezing. violently. spraying everything in a ten-snoot radius with blood spatter.

After an hour, my parental panic took precedence, and I rushed him to the ER. As he had ‘just’ eaten dinner and sedation would be required for the deep cave exploration, I agreed to leave him overnight.

No sooner did I have the princess peed and tucked in for sleep and the doctor called, profusely praising my paranoia as she had extracted a large foxtail from his right cavity, “just like you said.” She advised he was well and was just waking up: “Come retrieve your ranging rover in 30 minutes.”

1:00am

I finished the paperwork around the 40-minute mark, but the tech wasn’t comfortable letting him leave since he couldn’t retract his tongue… or take more than two steps without falling over. She asked if I’d mind hanging out in an exam room with him until he could walk.

I plopped down on the floor, well-versed in drunk Brick, fully prepared for the crying baby I’d seen so many times before. The door swung open, our eyes met, he rushed to my embrace, and immediately dropped on my legs. There wasn’t even an effort to position himself. It was like his body yelled, “Safe!” and all systems disengaged.

He lay there drooling for about 15 minutes. Doctors and techs popped an eye in every few minutes. I thought I’d be getting my morning coffee before he came to, but in a snap, he was up. Frantically pacing and crying, afraid he was on the verge of wetting my pants, I hit the stewardess button near the door. They agreed he was ok to leave, and on that note, he dragged me to the car.

I yelled at him to sit down 17 times before he reluctantly perched, and then he was gone. At the first red light, I turned myself inside out to make sure he was okay, and he was, but very deeply, very sleeply!!

I paused in the driveway, afraid the opening garage door would wake him, and I had to have a photo of my sleeping angel.

Opened the door. Pulled in. Closed the door. Shut off the engine. Took time to run in the house and pick up all the water bowls. Went back to the garage, opened and slammed the driver’s door. Nope, out cold.

Crap.

I wiggled my person, who is really in no shape to be wiggled, into a backseat hound hammock and somehow wiggled back out with 60 pounds in tow. I set him on the floor, and he opened his eyes and cried—all the injustices! They stole his sneeze! and they stole his nails!

Thinking I’m just minutes from getting myself to sleep, I ask Brick to go outside and empty his bladder before bed.

He steps out.

There’s a rattle of rocks.

Has he fallen?

I rush out to his aid just in time to hear the crunch!

The dog that was too drunk to get out of the car snatched a mouse dashing past the door.

He’s fine, the mouse… not so much.