Garbage Gut. Fat Baby. Bottomless Pit. If it has to do with eating, the name has probably been applied to Percy at some point. A few times a year, Percy causes himself gastric distress. Last night was one of those nights. Poor Percy. Poor Mom who had to clean it up.
We try to monitor what Percy eats because if we didn’t, that would be all Percy did. He doesn’t sleep, but the boy can eat. It doesn’t even have to be food to disappear down his gullet. He eats socks, nativity sets, sharpies, homework, grade books, slippers, trees, and anything else not nailed down. All of these things seem to pass right through.
Yesterday, whatever he ate must have needed an express ticket out because we were all regretting his poor choices.
At 2 am, Percy’s whines woke me and the smell that hit was more effective than my morning coffee to get me moving quickly. Haas was resting just outside Percy’s crate as if he were taking care of this poor boy. All 3 went out while Operation Crate Clean commenced.
When I was finally able to lock everyone back up and try to get an hour’s sleep, Haas decided the rules didn’t apply to him and he stole my bed. He takes up substantial bed real estate.
I guess I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to sleep next to Percy either. Poor Drake. He had to hang out with Percy. Maybe Drake needs an extra treat tonight. I know I need one! I sure hope Percy learned his lesson this time…but I doubt it.
I still think they are worth it but I hope it doesn’t happen again for a long time.