Saturday night, our family was packing for our early Sunday morning trip to Monetta for Liam's dedication service. Suddenly, Linda and I realized that we had made no plans for the care of our dogs. Half serious, and knowing that I would get a strong reaction from Linda, I suggested that we put plenty of food and water in the garage and leave them cooped up for a few days. Linda, a lifetime dog lover, assumed the role of defense attorney, and gave me a list of reasons why we couldn't leave our little dogs behind. As planned, I relented, but didn't realize how closely the dogs had been listening. Winston, riding in the back seat on the way to Monetta, suffered from an upset stomach and, well, barfed all over my suit coat hanging in the back and my tie that was inside the coat. Talk about holding a "garage." When we arrived in Monetta, I had only one suit and only a few minutes to get the coating off of my coat and remove the new puke pattern from the the lower third of my tie. This story has no lofty moral to teach. I offer it simply to make an observation. You may think that you're the master of your dogs, but sometimes they get the last barf!
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