Walking Maizie this evening was like pulling teeth. Instead of trotting three feet ahead, she dragged three feet behind. She was listless and pretty much uninterested in sniffing anything, which is always a sign that something is off. I fed her, figuring, if she refused to eat, there was trouble — Maizie never refuses to eat — but she managed to finish her bowl. So I went to the bathroom to get ready to leave for a movie night with some friends. Came out, and what did I find? A few piles of puppy puke on my living room rug. I called my friend, Kara, to tell her I wasn’t going to make movie night. Kara has a lovable Akita mix named Artie, so she’s familiar with dog problems, and she asked a question that jolted my memory: “Did she get into anything?” Oh yeah… On this morning’s walk, I turned away from Maizie to scoop poop, and when I turned back, she had a whole doughnut in her mouth. From who-knows-where. I got it away from her, but she must’ve gotten a good chunk before that. And was now sick. So instead of going to movie night, I got to stay home, clean up my rug, and make sure Maizie didn’t throw up on anything else (one pile was dangerously close to a pair of shoes I love — grounds for banishment). I made popcorn and put in a movie on my own, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t as good as Tim Curry in The Worst Witch. Sigh.