Don't Give Maggie Rawhide Chews Before Bedtime

I swore that I would never turn into one of those empty nesters that replaces their children with dogs. Famous last words...

Last night as I was getting ready for bed, Lulu and Maggie were romping around on our comforter, as usual. Ever since Maggie was a pup, her nighttime routine has had to include her throwing herself on our bed, wiggling around on her back with mouth wide open, and making the strangest snorting sounds.

So she was doing the whole upside down crocodile imitation thing again, when she stopped abruptly, righted herself, and launched a big pile of doggie barf squarely in the center of our bedspread.

Then happily resumed her wiggling and snorting routine.

Ewwww. John and I scrambled to clean it up. After I had tossed our comforter into the washing machine, I came back upstairs to see that John had replaced our quilt with another, and was tucked in surrounded by schnauzers.

"Well," I said. "I'm glad that poor Maggie didn't throw up in her kennel bed. Just think of her being in there with that yukky stuff all night."

John stared over the top of his book at me.

And, at that moment, I realized yet again how pathetic I've  become.

.::facepalm::.

"Did I actually just say how glad I am that Mags barfed on OUR bed instead of hers? Please tell me I didn't say that..."

But, I did. What have I become??