I think my dogs are plotting against me.

I love my little furry babies.  They bring me so much peace and joy.  I love them like I gave birth to them myself.  Yes, I really do love my dogs as much as you love your children.  My two little girls are the light of my life.  But as I imagine most parents experience from time to time, I feel like they ganged up on me today.


I was trying to be a good mom (responsible dog guardian) so I decided to clean the pugs wrinkles.  I'm not sure if all pugs have this, but our pug gets this gunk that I refer to as 'plum sauce' in the wrinkles between her nose and her eyes.  While the production of plum sauce has slowed down since we got rid of our carpet in lieu of laminate floors, it seems like she gets more 'saucy' during allergy season.  The pug hates to have her wrinkles cleaned.  If she even suspects that I am going to go near them she will take off as fast as her little stick legs will move her barrel body.  So it is imperative that one devises a plan.


First, I close the bedroom door.  Second, I go into the bathroom and get the unscented, aloe vera baby wipes.  I take a few wipes out and I warm them in my hands so they will be more comfortable for her.  Then I quickly scoop the pug up and plop her on my lap.  I then spend the next 10 minutes wrestling with all 15 lbs of her.  She tries to wiggle away, but I keep a tight grip on her collar.  Since she seems to be just as afraid as Mr. Misha that her eyeballs are going to pop out, she usually gives up.


Whilst I am ridding my little Chinese Pug's wrinkles of plum sauce, I feel a very familiar movement behind me.  It is a movement that I am sure many dog moms are familiar with.  It is the sensation of the bed moving when your dog is about to puke.  The noise sounds like a prepubescent boy swallowing his burps and the movement is a combination of dry-heaving and air-humping.  If I hadn't had a handful of plum-sauce-encrusted baby wipes, I would have snatched the cocker spaniel up and whisked her to the toilet so she could barf like a lady.  But I was too slow and she barfed right there on my bed.


Just then, Mr. Misha walked into the room and noticed the puddle of bile-colored liquid on the bed.  "Hey!  That looks like on of Marcel's foams!"  my sweet husband exclaimed. I gave him a look that let him know I was not impressed with the Top Chef reference and he quickly got the cocker spaniel off the bed so she could continue to barf on the floor.


Now it's noon.  I worked all night at the baby birthin' factory and I am washing all the bedding so I can remake the bed and eventually go to sleep.  As I type this, the dogs, of course, are sound asleep on the bare mattress.  The little bitches, they always seem to find a way to get the bed all to themselves.