You could say that yesterday was an interesting day, especially when the focus was on one of the boys who isn’t mentioned too often, the dog. Dog is a boy in almost every way, he has the same boisterous tendencies, his capacity to generate smells and mess is champion and he is also at times very demanding. On a nicer note, he is loyal and affectionate, funny and loving, which the boys can be on occasion, occasion being the operative word.
Yesterday however, he was somewhat grim. I got off the phone to a good friend of mine, ok I had probably been gossiping for a bit too long, whats new? I then went upstairs to put the washing away and dare I say it tidy up. I was not expecting to be greeted by a pile of steaming shit and a pile of steaming vomit on younger boy’s bed. The sight was terrible, but weirdly I couldn’t smell sick or poo. I set about clearing up whilst worrying massively about the dog, who was the definite culprit. A short while later I followed dog into the garden and found him happily chomping away on a plastic bottle of garlic oil. This was immediately confiscated and I tried to piece the jigsaw together. How the hell had the dog managed to get hold of a bottle of oil which was in a high kitchen cupboard? More importantly, which of the boys was responsible. Of course we had a lot of denial and it was very strange that there was no oil spilt in the house. The boys blamed each other and even now I’m not entirely sure about the truth.
This continued long into the evening and I was less than pleased. I watched the dog like a hawk and he seemed fine, if a little subdued. I was worried sick (no pun intended) about the welfare of the dog and decided to sleep downstairs in case he was ill again. Of course due to some of the life experiences I have had, I was genuinely afraid that the dog would die in the night. Thankfully, just thankfully this didn’t happen. life was on our side.
However, younger boy’s room is going to take time to return to its usual less than tidy and fresh state. Despite being washed twice, his bedding still smelt strongly of garlic and had to be hastily replaced at Tescos. His room still smells very much like a French restaurant and I have a feeling that it will do for a while. I can still smell garlic on my hands and whilst ordinarily I am as partial as the next person to a piece of garlic bread, funnily enough I am now quite put off.
I suspect that the whole experience will remain to be something of a mystery and it has certainly affirmed my opinion that boys will be boys and sometimes dogs will be boys too.