The most I've ever spent on dinner for a girl

$135.84

That is the most I've ever spent on dinner for a girl. It was chicken ... I think. The good part of this would be that she came back to my place. The bad news is that (1) she's a dog, literally; (2) she vomited and pooped everywhere, too literally.

Now, when I said that I'm not sure whether it was chicken or not, that's because it was refuse from someone's front yard which, at a glance in the dimly lit dusk sky, strongly resembled a chicken leg bone. I tried to remove it from her mouth. I pinned her down, grabbed her muzzle and tried to pry the foreign object from her mouth, but with no success. She swallowed the anomaly whole. She then had the audacity to whine at me pitifully as if she'd done nothing wrong. This was Thursday night. This same thing had happened before a few weeks prior, so I eventually stopped thinking about it.

Friday night called and music was in the air. I went to see a few friends' bands around town and had a good time. What I came home to was an atrocity. The dog, whose stomach was obviously in full revolt against all things not poo-covered (which I assure you was everything in my apartment prior to 9 pm that night), had unleashed one of the most vile messes I've ever experienced in my apartment. I immediately put the dog outside and sulked back to the defiled room.

I cleaned and cleaned and seemed to do some good, but I knew it wasn't enough. I had to get the big guns in the morning. Rug Doctor to the rescue. For now though, I had to minimize the fallout. So, I blocked my dog ... wait. It seems like I've missed a key point here. Here's a picture of the perpetrator, Bailey:

Okay, back to the story ... I blocked her in the kitchen. She whined a lot. At first, I thought it was because she really didn't like being shut in there. At 5 a.m., I learned that it was really because she had to go again and didn't want to do this inside. You know how I know this? She'd done it again. This time, it was more manageable, both in consistency and location. Poor, poor dog.

This same scenario occurred at 7:30 a.m. when I went to take her on a walk and check on her. This told me that I was dealing with serious business, so I took her to the vet. This was the bulk of the meal cost at about $95. I was actually surprised at how good she did initially, but this didn't last long. She made noises that I've never heard form any animal the moment she realized the doctor's sole interest was not petting her ... But, she survived.

I was worn out, but this wasn't over. I picked up the Rug Doctor and got to work. This part was surprisingly easy. Also easy - whatever the vet gave my dog totally worked and she was feeling better. I left the house for a while, just to get away and hang with a few friends, completely convinced that I was coming home to another awful event of Bailey's bodily fluid Olympics, but I was wrong. Another few hours removed from the nightmare of Friday night.

Sunday passed with more of the same, so I'm happy to report Bailey is back to normal, mostly, and that I seem to have survived what I can only hope is the worst thing I can expect as a dog owner.

Please, God, let this be the worst thing this dog ever does. Or, at least the grossest.