Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Flicka remains perfect. She sleeps when she's supposed to sleep, she pees when she's given the command, "Do your business," she eats on schedule, doesn't beg, has yet to make a sound and is about the cutest thing you ever did cuddle. She gives great hugs and kisses and thinks she's a lapdog. Perfect, right?
We've found her flaw.
The dog drools.
We had dinner at the table last night (2x a week whether we need to or not), and she slept peacefully at our feet the whole time. When we got up, so did she. There, where she had just lain, was a wet spot! No way had she peed, but we couldn't figure it out. Then we started thinking back to all the other various wet spots we'd seen, or wondered if we'd seen, that didn't smell but could not be otherwise explained.
Tonight as we watched our 20,000th episode of "Seinfeld," (ironically, the one where Poppie pees on Jerry's couch), I realized her whole chest was wet! She'd been sleeping in a way that her massive amounts of drool had totally wet the front of her.
So, she's not perfect after all, she's human.
And we love her.
Drool and all.
(Photo of Drooly waiting for Rojo to take a shower.)