“Our puppy is drunk!” The four-year-old announced mid-session.
“Drunk?” Their puppy was a five-month-old rescue mutt named Rooky, all paws, mischief and licking tongue. Still, surely I misheard. I looked at the mom.
“Well,” she clarified, her color rising, “he isn’t anymore!”
“But you said!” the boy accused.
“He was yesterday …” she conceded, redder still. “Drunk, I mean. He’s okay today.”
“Rooky drank Mama’s beer,” the boy offered helpfully.
Her blush intensified. “It’s not like that …”
“Mama had to pee and Rooky knocked her beer over and then he licked it up and he maked nasty burps and he walk funny. His burps smell like Mama’s beer,” the boy was on a roll. “Mama called the vet and he said Rooky is drunk. We taked him to the vet. Rooky even barfed.” The boy pointed out, impressed.
“Gramma said beer makes ‘bumble bee idiots dogs or not’,” he added in what I thought was a very grandma-like tone.
I’m considering the odds I might never see that mother in session again …
For The Daily Post