Jasper and the Unbaked Yeast Rolls

[Teresa]

We have a fox terrier by the  name of Jasper.
He came to us in the summer of  2001 from the fox terrier  rescue program. For those of you, who are unfamiliar with this type of  adoption, imagine taking in a 10 yr old child about whom you know nothing and  committing to doing your best to be a good parent.

Like a child, the  dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on the bed, on top of  the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without actually  performing a French kiss on me. Lest you think this is a bad case of 'no  discipline,' I should tell you that Perry and I tried every means to break him  of this habit including locking him in a separate bedroom for several nights.  The new door cost over $200. But I digress.

Five weeks ago we began  remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project is downright obnoxious,  it was 20 years overdue AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving for family,  extended family, and a lot of friends that I like more than family most of the  time.

I was assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast  dinner rolls for the two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend.

I am still  cursing the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was  the only appliance in the whole darn house that worked, thus the assignment. I  made the decision to cook the rolls on Wed evening to reheat Thurs am. Since  the kitchen was freshly painted, you can imagine the odor. Not wanting the  rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams #586, I put the rolls on baking sheets  and set them in the living room to rise for 5 hrs.

After 3 hours, Perry  and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about an hour. An hour later the  rolls were ready to go in the oven.

It was 8:30 PM. When I went to the  living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock one whole pan of 12 rolls  was empty.

I called out to Jasper and my worst nightmare became a reality. He  literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a combination of the Pillsbury  dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in fur. He groaned when he  walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated.

I ran to the phone and  called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious laughter, he told me the dog  would probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every 2 hours  for the rest of the night.


God only knows why I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any  more than my kids did when they were sick. Suffice it to say that by the time  we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. He was so bloated we had to  lift him onto the bed for the night.

We arose at 7:30 and as we always  do first thing; put the dog out to relieve himself. Well, the dog was as drunk  as a sailor on his first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his  butt and most of the time when he was walking his front half was going one  direction and the other half was either dragging the grass or headed 90  degrees in another direction.

He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he  would just walk and pee at the same time. When he ran down the small incline  in our back yard he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended up running into the  fence.

His pupils were dilated and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured  another few seconds of laughter from the vet (second call within 12 hours)  before he explained that the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he was  indeed drunk.

He assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go  through, it would wear off after about 4 or 5 hours and to keep giving him  Pepto Bismol. Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, Perry and I loaded  him up and took him with us to my sister's house for the first Thanksgiving  meal of the day.

My sister lives outside of Muskogee on a ranch, (10 to  15 minute drive). Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less 12) and drunk  dog leaning from the back seat onto the console of the car between Perry and  me, we took off.

Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp,  but believe me when I say that after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast  rolls, DOGS WILL BURP. These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have  matched or beat any smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's  not the worst of it.

Now he was beginning to fart and they smelled like  baked rolls. God strike me dead if I am not telling the truth! We endured this  for the entire trip to Karen's, thankful she didn't live any further away than  she did.

Once Jasper was firmly placed in my sister's garage with the  door locked, we finally sat down to enjoy our first Thanksgiving meal of the  day. The dog wa s the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made  trips to the garage to witness my drunken dog, each returning with a tale of  Jasper's latest endeavor to walk without running into something. Of course, as  the old adage goes, "what goes in must come out" and Jasper was no  exception.

Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen, unbaked yeast  rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block up my behind, but alas a  dog's digestive system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered  this was a mixed blessing when we prepared to leave Karen's  house.

Having discovered his "packages" on the garage floor, we loaded  him up in the car so we could hose down the floor. This was another naive  decision on our part. The blast of water from the hose hit the poop on the  floor and the poop on the floor withstood the blast from the hose. It was like  Portland cement beginning to set up and cure.

We finally tried to  remove it with a shovel. I (obviously no one else was going to offer their  services) had to get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the  remnants off of the floor. And as if this wasn't degrading enough, the darn  dog in his drunken state had walked through the poop and left paw prints all  over the garage floor that had to be brushed too.

Well, by this time  the dog was sobering up nicely so we took him home and dropped him off before  we left for our second Thanksgiving dinner at Perry's sister's house.

I  am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back to normal both in  size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer tricolor. None the  worse for wear I presume. I am also happy to report that just this evening  I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door.

It  appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided  hiding 2 of them for later would not be a bad idea. Now, I'm doing research on  the computer as to: "How to clean unbaked dough from the carpet."


And how was your  day?

[Judy Harder]

Now that was funny........ but me being the owner or slave of a Fox terrrier
it is the truth that they will eat anything that doesn't eat them.

Scooter came to me overweight  (ok, Fat) and looks like a baby pig when we walk.
I can't walk him enough to get it off and when we do walk, altho I stay on top of him
he is so quick to pick up any thing we pass and gobble it before I can say, "Drop that" and seems to be getting quicker..

He espiecally loves anything in celephane and it can be paper or medicine or a battery what ever would
come out of the crinkley stuff........I tried to keep a cat....altho he hated the cat  and the cat hated him,
I feel eventually they would
have managed to keep the peace, but he would NOT stay out of the litter box..

so, I gave up the idea of a cat. He is lots of company, but there are days when I really would love to divorce him.
Yes, I said divorce...he makes me think of a spouse being such a demanding being.

Oh well, I asked for it.......and I will have another pet before I die or several.......God willing....He is enough for now.
Thanks for the giggle