Thursday, January 12, 2006
My dog, the alcoholic.
Since Mom has been staying with me, she has found a sense of purpose. Her purpose: to find the most perfect margarita that Kansas City has to offer. She's praised the Lobsterita at Red Lobster as you get a keepsake strand of beads with a lobster on the end to remember the occasion by. She rejoiced in the fact that margaritas now come in single serving bottles for your take-home pleasure. She's had margaritas here, and margaritas there. She can tell you if it is a good margarita, or a subpar margarita.
It is safe to say that my Mom loves the margarita. With this, she has found a kindred spirit in Paul, who also loves the margarita. Heaven help me if they decide to get together for Margarita Night...because guess who gets to drive.
I personally think that margaritas taste like ass...but who am I to deprive someone else of their guilty pleasure.
She recently discovered with much delight that I had a blender of my own (which is amusing because it has been sitting out in plain view since she started staying with me), and has now taken to making her own little frozen margarita after work when the day has been a little too rough.
She has a lot of rough days.
She has also recently discovered that my dog, Sam, also loves the margarita. With such a discovery comes the awesome realization that by enjoying the margarita with Sam, she is not drinking alone. Sam is now her drinking buddy.
She didn't give him a whole one (not yet), but put a blob in a little bowl for him. I witnessed the exchange. I witnessed as Sam licked the bowl clean, picked the bowl up in his mouth and dropped it at my mother's feet with that look that asked, "Got anymore??"
My dog is a lush.
So, we will see where this goes. I had read somewhere that once a dog gets schnockered on something, the dog will never drink it again. But Sam is no ordinary dog. He is a mutant dog of the devil. He eats cat turds, so it is safe to say he has no discerning taste.
Do they have AA for pets?