Saturday, September 13, 2008

Day 20

Peanut brittle. That was what I was dreaming about. I was standing by a shelf with Bear, reached up and pulled down a bag of peanut brittle. It wasn't just any peanut brittle either. It was the peanut brittle we get at the gas station at exit 37 off of 95 in Virginia from the peanut farmer/Publius who owns the gas station, when we go see the kids. We always stop there for peanuts, peanut brittle, bacon, gas and political commentary on the events of the day.

The stuff is amazing! Not to sweet, but not bland. It actually tastes "nutty" and it's my favorite peanut brittle in the world! His boiled nuts and regular nuts are wonderful too! The bacon, we haven't tried yet. It's still sitting in the bag in the cupboard awaiting a cold Saturday morning breakfast toward Thanksgiving.

He owns the gas station, the peanut and pig farm and the factory that does the processing. A man of outspoken political views, he always has an opinion about Washington to express...which he does with feeling, conviction and hard work. Sundays mornings we usually find him sweeping up the outside of the gas station and debating with the customers who, whether they agree with him or not, usually give him credit for standing up for his beliefs.

And in my hand, I had a bag of his wonderful peanut brittle just waiting to be opened...

I looked at Bear who was anticipating the delight of the most delectable treat I was about to share with him. He knew it would be good, just like the home made split pea soup I had shared with him for dinner. I could see the joy in his eyes stemming from the excitement of another shared adventure and I opened the bag. As the clear plastic separated, it began to hit me, that smell that wasn't the peanut brittle that I had come to know and love. It was a stench of unbelievable magnitude! Something so incredibly foul that once it hit the nose there was no retreating from it and it kept growing...and growing...and growing until it saturated everything, everywhere!

It was horrible. In fact, it was so horrible that I couldn't accept it as being real and awoke from my deep slumber at 1:00 am and when I did so, it was still there, in my bedroom, and growing.
It took a few moments, for me to realize that I wasn't still dreaming and gently, so I wouldn't wake up the Vet, I folded back the covers, and in the dark began searching for my crocks with my feet that Bear has taken to moving all over the house. As I sat up, the light on his side of the bed quietly went on.

"You smell it too?" I asked.

An unenthusiastic "Ugh.." was his quiet reply.

The smell was nauseating! We expected the source to be right there in the room, it was so strong, but after a thorough search, we found nothing, including Bear. As I entered the living room, Bear was on the couch looking happy and fine and Will was curled in his chair. I turned toward the bathroom and there, right at the threshold, was the offending pile that was permeating the entire house with it's caustic smell.

It wasn't a big pile, more like a "leak" than anything else, so I quickly searched the rest of the house to ensure there wasn't anything else as I grabbed the leash. I took Bear out and the Vet had the honor of cleaning it up, a task my stomach couldn't take at that hour.

Note to self: No more home made split pea soup for Bear.

Happy wanderings!

The Writer...and her dog, Bear


Sarah said...

Oh no! I can definitely empathize, been there, done that. Not split pea soup, though! Nothing worse than the late night hurka-gurka or stinky presents. Oh, the life of a dog-mom. :-)

Sarah and the Corgis

~Marie~ said...

Oh my! We all have been there, it's part of being a dog-mom. I have dones my share of gagging while cleaning, so I sympathize with you.