Since it's Easter, I thought I'd show you how we do Easter egg hunt at our house. Well, it actually isn't an Easter hunt per se, because a) I don't want to do an Easter egg hunt since it's fucking bonkers — why would I hunt EGGS that were brought by a BUNNY to celebrate SOMEONE RAISING FROM THE DEAD? And b) because we've been running after our egg and hunting it every day since we bought it without even thinking about Easter weeks ago. But it's not just any egg, mind you, it's the very awesome RunningEgg and I can't thank the people who came up with it enough, because it's frigging genius — 5 minutes with it and Dea is dead, d-e-a-d. And a tired dog, a dog who's otherwise packing enough energy to put a small nuclear power plant to shame, brings unprecedented joy to his or her owners, trust me. The egg brings unprecedented joy to Dea too so it's a win-win situation. But recently, we've been faced with a situation that was anything but joyous, at least the way Miss Dea sees it, but I'll let her tell you all about it herself.
March 11th 2016
OMG!!!! This week was a week from HELL!!! I woke up Monday morning and my left eye was itchy. The two humans living with me saw that there was something wrong with it too: he found some pus and she a hair stuck in it so she took the hair out (she said it was mine but I don't see that being possible, it's just so easy to blame everything on me, but come on, one can't simply assume that all short white hairs in the house are mine!! When you assume you make an ASS out of U and ME, you know? Wait. Where was I? Oh, right, the eye. So, she took the hair, SUPPOSEDLY MY hair, out) and then they started talking about some 'eye drops' to soothe irritation. "Eye drops?" I thought, "I've never heard anything about any eye drops." But then they seemed to forget all about it and nothing happened. Until nightfall.
In the evening, when it was time for my blanky-couch-nap session, I heard her say: "We'll wait till she calms down so it will be easier for you to hold her and I'll give her the eye drops." There was that thing again — eye drops. "Whose eye, drops where??" I thought. And then ... the little white bottle came. I. Can't. Stand. BOTTLES!!! The last time I saw a bottle like that, white and squishy with a twist-off cap, he held me down and she squirted something cold and runny in my ear and I almost died, DIED I TELL YOU. So now, whenever I see a bottle like that, I run. Where? Mostly just around the coffee table because there's nowhere to run in this hellhole!!! And so we went: I was sprinting around the coffee table, jumping on and off the couch, hiding under chairs and the kitchen table and then dashing off again while he was trying to catch me and she was rolling on the floor laughing. But then she said, "Wait, I have an idea," and came back with a handful of treats and that was it, I didn't stand a chance, they brought in the big guns — food.
I sat there relatively calmly while she fed me my treats and he squirted some cold, runny stuff all over my head and then I was back on the couch again, bundled under my blanky napping the evening away. I like napping. And my blanky, especially the blanky. But not bottles, I HATE bottles!! And I had to live through that ordeal two more nights until the redness went away — I'm telling you, a week from HELL!! Ok, snacking on treats was kind of nice, but still — HELL. I HATE bottles!
So, that's what happened. But don't feel too bad for little Miss Sensitive, her week from hell got a lot better before it was over: she got her RunningEgg and as you can see, she's loving life. And the egg, let's not forget about the egg. Happy Easter everyone!
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