The Exorcism of Libby Mae Keene

Okay, before you freak out that I'm really about to write about an exorcism, let me clear the air. I'm not going to write about a real exorcism. Rather, I am going to write about how my little miniature schnauzer Libby puked her guts out last night. So, if you do not like a good puking story, stop reading now.

If you do, continue on.

Last night we went to Adam and Debbie Wiel's house for pizza. It was a ton of fun- Justin and I finally feel like we have some friends here in B-town. After an enjoyable evening, we got home, played with the dogs, and were relaxing watching the Olympics. Justin looks at Libby and asks me what she is doing. I had no idea. I never know what this dog is doing- she's crazy.

Let me pause for a minute. Libby is a crazy, wack-o dog. She jumps around, whines, yawns, grunts, etc. constantly. Therefore, you never really know if something is wrong or if she's just being herself. As I write this she is whining/grunting as she walks around. And trust me when I say nothing is wrong with her at the moment. She's just crazy! Here's the little culprit:

Okay, back to the puking. It seemed as though Libby was just licking her lips for whatever reason. We figured she found a bug or a piece of fuzz on the floor and was eating it. This is also a normal occurrence. Next thing you know, Libby's pulling a Linda Blair. She is throwing up like you wouldn't believe! It gets all over my leg, my couch, the floor, and the tile by the front door, as my wonderful husband grabs her and tries to get her outside. Needless to say it was disgusting.

We spent the next 30 minutes cleaning. We had to shampoo the carpets on the spots where her previously digested food was, and had to clean the couch. On a side note- I highly recommend microfiber couches! That's what we have, and it came totally clean using the soapy stuff it came with. I'm amazed honestly.

As we were cleaning we discovered she had also puked in her crate while we were gone, and we found the tag from the towel that went in her crate. Basically, Libby has been chewing and eating this towel, and last night she suffered the consequences. Really we all did. It was miserable.

After cleaning and stressing out, we went to bed, exhausted. But did I sleep well? No, because I was worried all night that Libby was dying. (This is how my mind works.) Obviously, she did not die.

And this shows me, yet another reason, why I'm not sure that children are in my future.

Just sayin'.