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Sunday Service No.3

Welcome my children, I’m so glad you could make it to the Rev. Willowtree’s third Sunday Serviceā„¢. This week I’d like to talk about miracles, or to be more precise, the miracle I thought I witnessed yesterday.

MDW and I were zoning out relaxing in front of the TV yesterday, when Belle came in from outside and hopped up on the couch. I need to digress here for a moment to explain the difference between dogs and cats. When cats eat something that doesn’t agree with them they make a big deal about retching until they get it out. On the other hand, since dogs don’t seriously believe that there’s any substance in the universe that shouldn’t’ be eaten, it’s up to their internal organs to make the decision to take evasive (or in this case, evacuative) action. Consequently, with cats you have a bit of a warning and usually enough time to marshal them outside before they barfs, this is not always the case with dogs.

And so it was without any indication of something being amiss, that Belle produced what could be described as a being a bit like a large soft serve ice-cream, on the couch. Except that rather than being white, smooth and cold like soft serve vanilla ice-cream, its was brown, lumpy and warm. Come to think of it, it was a lot more like diarrhea than ice-cream and if it came out the other end, it would have been. And the smell, holy snapping arseholes! It smelled disgusting, I’m not talking old man disgusting, I’m talking rotting, putrid corpse disgusting!!

Friday, I had noticed that her breath was really stinky (which puzzled me a bit, as she not a butt licker). In fact I had noticed this just after she dropped some mysterious looking, nondescript furry object at my feet for me to throw for her to fetch (she’s good like that). But rather than throw it, I got a paper towel and threw it in the bin, somehow I just knew that MDW wouldn’t see the humour in me throwing around some smelly furry dead thing around the living room. At the time, I assumed it was just a mouse or a bird (I told you it was pretty rank, and I couldn’t make it out).

But now that I was desperately trying to deal with two hands full of warm putrid dogs barf and fur, something I noticed yesterday suddenly sprang to mind, and here’s where the miracle comes in. Seems every time I looked out the back, the gang seemed to be furtively conducting it’s business in close proximity to where Chewie was buried. Ok, now I guess some of you are thinking "Ewww, they dug up the cat!"

I on the other hand, being a man of the cloth, thought "Praise the lord, I seen the resurrection!". Well that’s what I thought , unfortunately for the guests who were here at the time, what I said was "Fuck! they dug Chewie up. Now we’re gonna have to deal with fucking zombie cats!"

As it turned out, it wasn’t Chewie after all, it was a possum that had been dead for probably about two months, going by the advanced state of decomposition, and the worst smell it’s ever been my misfortune to  encounter. I got a shovel and a plastic bag and got rid of it so they wouldn’t keep eating it an barfing it up inside (and I was right to do so, because just 30 seconds ago I found another pile of possum barf in the kitchen, this one was compliments of Bentley).

I just wish I had found it yesterday before Belle stunk up the house, or better still, before she jumped up on the bed this morning and handed me a jaw bone before I was fully awake.

Enjoy your meal.

PS. There are picture, but I’ll spare you.

NoMoBarf post #18.

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