I miss your ginger hair and the way you like to dress.....

I didn't tell this story before because the shame was too much, but I  decided to come out about it.

Wednesday night we went to the Boy's house for Les' surprise 50th birthday. Thier landlord and friend who lives in the basement suite, Ashley, has a little dog as well and we are always bringing one dog or another over. The boys love them and it's a great chance to socialize them. That night we brought both Gertie and Herman. Usually, we spend an evening over there outside, but the weather was miserable.

Les was delighted with his party, and we were all in the kitchen and the dogs were loose in the house with us. We shut some doors so they couldn't go anywhere but in the process Herman got shut into the weight room, where Les'  birthday cake was.......

It wasn't a cake truthfully; it was a tray of donuts and petit fours from the Pastry Chef, and Herman ate about six items. We found him bloated in the bedroom with his nose deep in a long john. It was embarrassing, doing the walk of shame out to the car with our cake-smeared, distended dachshund. We apologized and the boys were lovely as they always are and everybody ate the rest of the cakes anyway.

Herman is fine, and this is not his first "jackpot gorge". We took him to my granbpa's house on the island, and my grandpa let both little dogs into his house to meet his dogs before Monica and I were out of the van. By the time we got to the front door Herman had done a sweep of the house and found every tasty treat my Grandpa's spoiled dogs had hidden, forgotten or left behind. Gertie got to sleep with us that night because I was dead certain he was going to puke and I didn't think it was fair she should have to sleep in a kennel with somebody else's' puke. He didn't though, and he was ready for breakfast the next day.

He also eats poop, grass, twigs, tree buds, toilet paper and has to have his dinner slowly dispersed to him otherwise he gobbles it without breathing. Having always had rescues, it never surprises me when they behave oddly. A lady at the SPCA table on Canada day said it might be a response to having been starved previously. I call him a foodie; I think he just loves to eat.

Speaking of foodies, check out this rad blog . Monica I have been giggling over them the week since we found them, they are based in Toronto and it's THE funniest, hippest food blog ever.