I once saw a bumper sticker with these exact words, and tonight it should be plastered to my forehead.
Mr. T left for his business trip tonight, and he wasn't gone twenty minutes when Thomas the Dog began heaving in a telltale manner. This alarming behavior prompted me to leap from my seat and attempt to rush him out the sliding door in my bedroom before the inevitable purge began. No luck. He made it six inches from the door before covering my newly cleaned carpet with a splash of fresh, chunky black vomit.
Black. That ain't good. Anyone want to take bets on whether I'll be making a three a.m. trip to the animal hospital tonight with a sleeping kid and puking dog?
Like my dad sometimes says, I need this like I need a paper asshole.