You cannot make this up.

WARNING: not about yarn, knitting or wool. This story could gross you out and for that I'm not really sorry because I still think it's funny.

4am this morning, I am startled awake by the sound of a dog wretching in my bedroom. I could totally tell it was the type of wretching where the dog is straining and heaving, bringing up something from way below decks. I said my first thought out loud, "Oh no."

Now, I'm not really ashamed to admit that the emotions behind my "Oh no" were not 100% about the well-being of my dog. Maybe more like 40%. The other 60% was about my carpet. Dog puke is a terrible thing. A staining terrible thing at 4am when I can't even begin to think about where cleaning products are.

My "Oh no" woke up Hubby who has developed a rather ingenious dog puke technique. (Not that this happens a lot, but Django's becoming a senior citizen and still eats like a puppy. He still swallows rawhides whole. Whole things do not digest and therefore must come out the way they came in.) Hubby's technique includes grabbing the nearest dog blanket and sliding it under the dog and "catching" the offending nasties. The blanket can then be thrown directly in the wash, no carpet cleaning, no scrubbing. Sometimes, I just love this man.

So, I say "Oh no" and Hubby shoots out of bed ready to play catcher while I sit up, still in bed fretting over my carpet. The deed was done and Hubby walks out of the room with something in his hand and says, "It was this." In his hand he's displaying something for me to see in the dark. A rawhide I thought and laid back down.

Hubby returns from wherever he went and he climbs into bed a little too close to me. I say, "You're under my blanket?" (Why we have separate blankets is a story for another day, my friends. We're not mormon, we just have different ideas of warm and cold.)

Haddy: You're under my blanket?
Hubby: That's the beauty of it.
Haddy: The beauty of what?
Hubby: The beauty of Roxie puking a wiener.
Haddy: It was Roxie? Not Django?
*pause*
Haddy: A WIENER?
*pause*
Haddy: You used your blanket?
Hubby: Yes. I used my blanket to catch the wiener that Roxie puked.

Laughter erupts from our bedroom at 4am.

For the record, Hubby and I cooked out last night. Hot dogs. We had some extras and I distinctly remember Hubby saying, "I'm gonna give them a hot dog." Apparently, he split a hot dog and gave each dog half. Also very apparently, Roxie chose not to chew hers.

And thus ends my story of how my dog puked a wiener.

Gosh, I don't think that'll ever get old. I can't stop laughing.