We woke up to the strangest smell….not a good one. In fact, a really really bad one. It lead us to the shower. You see, our dogs (Maggie and Cici) love to sleep in the shower. They think of it as their personal cave. At night we open the shower door, throw in two dogs and a fluffy dog towel and they’re good to go until morning. Not this morning, though. The dogs seem to have contracted the doggy flu to celebrate Vegetable Day of the Satan Diet. Honestly, it’s more like a bout of doggy dysentery. We call it the poopy puppy syndrome. Poor puppies.
It’s not enough that we already have a strong dislike for vegetables, now we have a strong psychological pairing of them with that really really bad smell. It was pretty horrific. Two hours later, we had clean dogs, a clean shower, a clean bathtub, scarred psyches, and sick stomachs. The fluffy dog towel took a trip to the garbage can and is now enjoying an adventure-filled ride to the dump. And the smell of cauliflower for breakfast just about killed us.
We made pot roast last Fall. We merrily filled the crock pot roast with spices, potatoes, carrots, and pot roast. We ate the roast and the potatoes but neither of us like cooked carrots. Why did we add carrots if we won’t eat them? Well, they flavor our food the way we like it. Anyway, Sherry thought it was fun to feed the carrots to the dogs. Maggie, an ungainly Shi Tzu, will stand on her hind legs and pirouette for a carrot. She looks like a tiny circus bear. Cici, the 4 pound poodle, was sproinging around like a dysfunctional rocket and was rewarded deeply for her efforts. If you have ever fed your dog carrots you will understand why this morning brought back memories of that happy day. It was followed by two days of carrot-induced poopy puppy syndrome. The dogs will never get another carrot again. Dog poop and vegetables are firmly paired in our minds for life. And here we are committed to eating vegetables all day long. Oh the smells.
“I can’t bear to think of asparagus for lunch.”
“Mom, we really need to eat a green vegetable. We’ve made this commitment; let’s do this.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking. Green Skittles are a vegetable. I mean, they’re green and everything.”
“No, mom. Just no.”
“Think about it. They wouldn’t make them green if they weren’t vegetable-like. And we like green Skittles.”
“How about some peas instead? You like peas.”
“We aren’t supposed to eat them. No corn, beans, or peas. But we get a baked potato for dinner. Do you think we could get away with butter and sour cream on our potatoes?”
“If you want you can do that. But I’m betting we wouldn’t lose weight.”
“What about green M & Ms? They’re a deeper green and if we get the peanut ones and drink a little milk we would have a complete protein.” (See, Sherry was committed to being a vegetarian once and was told she had to worry about making complete proteins in her diet. It was a fail, but she became quite adept at pairing all sorts of junk food (as complementary proteins) with milk to create complete proteins.)
“Nope. Not going to happen. If you keep it up, I’ll make you eat a green lollipop. That could be a vegetable, too.”
“Ick. Those smell like dirty feet. Guess we’ll have to settle for the asparagus.”
Brooke is the best break-up buddy ever!