Dude.

I have this bad habit of eating chocolate chips straight from the bag.  Last night, they were milk chocolate.  They were good.

Finn thought so too, it seems.  Apparently, I failed to put away the bag of chocolate chips.  (I do things like that pretty regularly.)  Finn found the chocolate chips, and then ate the remaining half bag of chocolate chips.  And then he puked them all over the floor.  And then the puke smelled so chocolatey delicious, he ate it too.  (I'm gagging while I type this, in case you were wondering.)

Fortunately, he was still able to greet me at the door.  And he seems just fine, all happy puppy bouncy crazy like always.

And I didn't vomit while I was cleaning the vomit from the floor.  Miracle of Miracles!!!  Seriously, I've got a bad aversion to vomit.  When I was 21, I worked in a daycare for about a year - 18 months to 3 years was my "class".  I've cleaned diaper explosions that spread the love from the top of the neck to the bottom of the feet without gagging (too much); the one time one of my charges puked on the floor, though?  I had to find the daycare director and ask her to clean the mess for me.

So I got the mess cleaned without making a mess of my own.  And then I went outside to check on the pup, and he's fine.  And then I came back upstairs, to crack open a beer and watch Judge Judy and pretend that I don't have a list of things that need to get done tonight - and then I found the shit on the floor.  Literally - he shit on the floor.  Not in our nook room, but the other, less-traveled room at the other end of the hall.

This entire situation is only kinda okay because the dog's not dead.