Yesterday we were trying to combat a little bit of diaper rash by letting Zuzu go around naked after her bath. For her, this is an endorphin rush second only to being offered the dregs of my coffee (girlfriend loves herself some caffeine).
She was running around, shrieking with the joy of feeling the rush of air on her princess parts, and then, quite suddenly, stopped dead still for a moment with an odd look on her face. She then took off again, waving her arms around and laughing.
And there, on the carpet, was a present the likes of which is usually given to me by the dogs.
The story would end here, with everyone else in the family yelling “OH NO! OH HORROR! WHO DIDN’T DIAPER THE BABY!” etc. were it not for the fact that even before I could grab cleaning materials, I had to bodily launch myself off the couch and on to the dogs, who came skidding into the room with drool already hanging from their mouths, and wrestle them away and into crates while they whined and tried to scrabble over my shoulder and reach their prize.
I have no idea what dogs think, of course, but if I had to guess on this occasion I think I’d come closer than most times. For clearly in their little brains was
“HOLY COW. You mean IT DISPENSES?”