cant...stop...laughing!!!

oh my gosh...

seriously...i cannot stop laughing at this blog post i found! i've copy and pasted it below...there's some foul language, so if you get offended by that, you probably shouldn't read it. i however, still cannot stop laughing!

On Saturday morning Dave, the kids and his mom went out while I cleaned. Dave’s mom just got a new dog, a teeny tiny little dog that goes everywhere with her; the trip that morning was no exception. They came back here so Dave’s mom could help me do some pre-moving cleaning while Dave took the kids shopping for a bit (read: got them out of our hair).

I was wiping out cupboards in the kitchen when they got home. Julia burst through the front door, Dave not far behind with Oliver in tow. “It stinks in the van!” she shouted.

To which I said, “That’s just your father, sweetie.”

Dave shot me a look as he headed upstairs to change Oliver’s diaper. “No really, it stinks in there. I think the dog’s got gas,” he mumbled. “Good thing Julia was holding her on the way home.”

Sarcastic foreshadowing: Yeah, good thing!

Dave took care of Oliver while I helped Julia in the bathroom. Once they left Dave’s mom and I set about deciding what to do first. We were about to start washing windows when Dave reappeared at the front door.

“Ma!” He shouted. “The van reeks! Julia’s side stinks!”

So out we went to the van, me in just socks, Dave’s mom clutching her stinky dog. I opened the sliding door on Julia’s side and was punched in the face by the foul stench of raunchy parmesan cheese and dog.

“That’s some gas,” I said, and went inside to get the Febreeze.

Dave was spraying Julia’s car seat when his mom piped up and asked if we thought her dog had sprayed. In my van! On my kid! Only it didn’t smell like spray, it smelled…heavier. Funkier. We checked Julia, her car seat and the upholstery for wet spots, of which there were none, chalked it up to gas and sent them on their way.

But once we got inside we couldn’t ignore the fact that the dog totally fucking reeked. The thought of my house smelling like Dave’s gas and dog gas didn’t thrill me, so I ended up in the bathroom on my hands and knees giving the dog’s hind quarters a wee shampoo like a sucker.

Dave’s mom was worried that the dog had in fact sprayed and decided to call the breeder she’d gotten the dog from. I half-listened to her end of the conversation as I pulled the fridge out and swept up Cheerios, dust rhinos and magnets. I was on all fours scrubbing god knows what off of the floor when I overheard her saying things like, “Anal glands? Juices? Release them ourselves?”

Say what?!

Turns out the woman who gave my mother in law this preshus wittle doggie woggie thought that the dog's anal glands might have ruptured. Most times dogs go outside and rupture the glands themselves, she said, but sometimes they burst on their own and if we wanted to, we could try and release them ourselves.

We could release the dog’s anal glands ourselves!

Now, I grew up with dogs. Besides the years I spent away at college, I had a dog in the house until I was twenty-four. In all of my years of pet ownership I have never, ever heard of a dog’s anal glands rupturing. Ever.

Isn’t it lovely how the first time I learn about such an occurrence, it’s because there’s a strong chance my mother in law’s dog’s ass glands burst all over my firstborn?

She got off the phone, grabbed her dog and said to me, “C’mere. Your eyes are better than mine.” And that, my friends, is how I wound up on the little stoop on my patio with the dog’s hind legs splayed, eagle style, so I could poke around her ass and look for a gland that looked inflamed while my husband’s mother said stuff like, “She said to look for a hole the size of a nail head. Do you see anything?”

I didn’t know what the fuck I was looking for. I’d never seen a dog’s ass up close and personal like that before and I sure as hell have never seen a canine anal gland before. “Uh, no, I don’t see anything,” I said before going inside to douse myself with lye.

Having not found any bulging glands, we left the dog outside in the backyard and went about our business. Once Dave and the kids got home we checked Julia’s clothes for wet spots and couldn’t see any, but her pants smelled kind of funky so I gave her a sponge bath, changed her clothes and tried to convince myself that it was just gas that smelled so bad and not anal juice.

Fast forward to last night, when Dave’s mom called to tell us she had taken her dog to the vet's.
Them glands were inflamed and had indeed ruptured.

Now there’s one for Julia’s baby book: May 12, 2007: Grammie’s dog’s ass glands ruptured on me for the first time!

seriously...i'm laughing so hard, i'm crying! i'm keeping this post forever...that way when i'm having a really bad day, i can read this and laugh my head off...