The Dog knew he had done wrong. His immediate objective, however, was to avoid... at all costs... what he knew was coming... a thorough cleaning of his Weimaraner pelt despoiled by his Adventure in Shit. The Short-person & I are still wondering what kind of animal produces merda the color of Dijon mustard. Any guesses from you all? Anyway... once home yet, before I could grab to sponge him off his merdosa disgrazia... or, his shitty disgrace... The Dog scampered inside the house and plopped himself down on a relatively expensive Oriental rug... a gift of my Mother's. She might suspend any further gifts of said item, if she were to hear of the rug's Fate. Thus, the rug needed to be cleaned. However, quick of paw, The Dog scampered upstairs to his revered Il Suo Posto... or, his bed... in the Salotto to avoid being vigorously rubbed-down with apple vinegar. Thus, the bed needed to be cleaned too. WE ARE NOT THROUGH WITH THIS!!! The recalcitrant canine disappeared again. I followed the stench to find The Dog cowering on his other Il Suo Posto next to my bed. Thus, and for the third time, it too needed to be cleaned and even before The Dog has been touched by the cleansing qualities... mostly, it takes away his shit stink... of apples in vinegar. Gads.
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