I have to tell you this story because I can't stop thinking about it.

This friend of mine was here the other day and brought her dogs - those Welsh corgis.



One of the dogs ate some grass and then threw up on the flagstones about where you see him standing in the photo.

She goes over to it, says "Jones threw up" and proceeds to scuff her hiking boot through it, as if it needed to be turned over and analyzed.

"Whoa," I said. "Do you think now you're going to come into my house and walk on my carpets with that on your shoe?" and went to get the garden hose to spray off the walk and the bottom of her hiking boot.

But she wouldn't let me wash it off, she claimed wiping it on the door mat would be adequate.

Day-um! Now my door mat has dog puke on it, too.

Meanwhile she's giving me a lecture about how the grass is at its prime flavor and is irresistible to her dog.

So I lured her into sitting down outside for awhile so at least it might be dry before she went in my house and walked on my Persian carpets.

This woman is a 73-year old retired botany professor, and it's moments like this that make me think she is getting a little bit ga-ga. I don't know what the hell she was thinking, but I guess I'm glad it wasn't dog poop that she felt like poking through.

Day-um again. And Eeuuw.