Roscoe Puked in Staples

So sort of a spoiler in the title of this but...

So once in a while, Roscoe wants to eat grass. Like a month ago he did it we were at dog park-- he went into the high grass and started eating it like it was a salad. I tried to pull him away from it but he kept running back to eat more grass. Finally I rolled my eyes at his stubborn stupidity and let him chow down on the stupid grass. Bad call. The next day I had a pukey tumbleweed of digested grass in my bed. Total gross. And the grass was all dark. Like his stomach sucked the color out of it. Double gross.

Anyway, I googled 'dogs eat grass' and found out that nobody really knows why dogs decide to eat grass. They might do it because something about the grass settles their stomach. Or they need some secret dog nutrient or something. Or they wanna puke for some reason because grass usually makes them puke. Or they might just be unsmart and bored and hungry or whatever. In any case, it doesn't seem to be bad for a dog as long as the grass isn't sprayed with poison. Duh. So when Roscoe decides he wants to eat grass. I sort of whatever it. (Although a week ago he ate grass in a park and then immediately puked up some glop that got stuck in his beard. Gross. )

Otherwise he seems fine.

Anyway, today I was walking to Staples to get financially protologizied for a stupid printer cartridge. (2 cartridges $54! F**k U printer cartridge a-holes!) And on the way there Roscoe stopped off at a grass patch to graze like a dumb dog cow. So I let him have just a nibble and we kept moving along. We get to Staples and I head down an aisle to look for a printer cartridge when I hear Roscoe start to make his puke noise. (blerpblerpblerp) I was like, 'Oh sht! The puke noise! Not his puke noise!' I start yanking him toward the exit but we were mid-store. There was no way. Plus, when I pulled he would slam on the brakes as if to say, 'Just give me a sec! Hold on! I'll come! Just let me puke first!'

The final gaggy blerp and he wretches up some gross goop with blades of grass in it-- and I stare at it. I had three choices:

1. Get the hell outta there asap.
2. Get my cartridge and apologize for the dog puke in aisle three on the way out.
3. Fess up. Offer to clean it up. And see what happens

I went with three and a surprisingly unphased looking dude came with me to look at the puke. Then he said one sec and went in the back and came back with paper towels and a trashcan with a plastic bag in it. I insisted on cleaning the puke telling him that I've done it before. And I swooped it up. Luckily it was goopy enough to sort of hold together. I did my best to get it all but there was a pretty decent stain there.

We got outside and I looked at Roscoe and he was like, 'Sorry I puked in the store, dad...' I was like, 'It's ok! But knock it off with the stupid grass!'

Whatever. It's sort of nice in a way. Cause like if it's a permanent stain-- it'll be like a carving your name in a tree type of sentimental reminder. Except in Staples... And with puke.

ok bye!

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