TheBunnyBlog.com - April 9, 2007

People don't believe me when I say Maxie is a genius. Try this on for size:

I was cutting up a watermelon one Sunday evening, when I got into a phone fight with an ex-boyfriend over some bullshit. It was late and I was a bit exasperated, flailing my watermelon-soaked knife around so that drops of it were splattering about the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom. Anywhere I stomped. Maxie was following me around, licking it up, for Maxie loves watermelon above all special treats. Murph would have joined her, but yelling makes her nervous. She hid beneath the bed.

When I could gain no ground in the fight, I hung up the phone and threw the knife in the sink. I called the mutts into the bedroom, shut the door and went to bed. I had to be up at 6am for work (this was when I worked at that killer retail design firm. I miss them).

Now, it should be said that Maxie is prone to horrible "episodes" of bleeding diarrhea. She has been since the day we brought her home from doggy jail. Several vets have poked and prodded her, and scanned her little insides. They've told me she was "just made that way," and that I should keep her on the preservative-laden Iams, but give her Pepcid AC before she ate it--so those preservatives would go down easier. This was before I realized that practitioners of Western medicine were essentially worthless at balancing the body, and that going to a practitioner of western medicine to fix your insides was akin to hiring a roofer to eradicate your termite infestation. Slap so'mmore shingles on that bastard! I'm glad I got to see an Xray of Maxie's cute little insides, though. Her little doggy organs are adorable.

So, via Eastern medicine, I totally healed Maxie of her bleeding poo problem. She had been a year without a tummy problem on the night of the watermelon fight, but at 3am, there she was beside me, shaking like a leaf in her trademark, "Mom I've got to poo blood" quiver. I was pretty upset.

I took her outside, where she did her trademark squat, poo, move, squat, poo, move maneuver for a good thirty minutes in a giant circle on the grass. I shuddered at the thought of all the poo I'd have to clean up in the morning.

On the way back to the bedroom, Max lingered in the kitchen beneath the cutting board. When I caught her spying the treat, she shook off the gaze. "What? Huh? I wasn't looking at the watermelon." I brought the dogs back into the bedroom and shut the door.

At 5am, there was the shaking again. I was shocked. Maxie hadn't had a tummy problem in a year, and she had never had it twice in one evening. I took her outside where she repeated the tedious squat, poo, move maneuver for another twenty minutes. The sun was coming up; I wasn't eager to watch it rise upon the yard full of poo I'd have to rinse down before work. Blech.

I brought the girls back inside, and crashed onto my bed where I fell to sleep pretty quickly, despite the suspicious sounds coming from the kitchen. At 6am, I rose to find no poop in the backyard and no watermelon on the cutting board. That's right. She laid next to me in that locked up bedroom thinking "How am I going to work this? How am I going to get at that watermelon?" She then faked two tummy aches to get at it.

This wasn't even her best effort. I liked the time she pissed on Tucker's pillow and framed it on Murph better. Too bad she didn't realize Murph's denim hot pants were a doggy diaper meant to catch pee. She's smart, but she's not that smart.

Posted by The Bunny at 3:05 PM