Thanks for Noticing Me...

Alex and I were sitting in the living room this evening, totally sapped from the packing ordeal and Brynna's new reluctance to go to bed without at least two separate visits from each parent, when Jasper left his lair under the coffee table and strode purposefully across the floor.

Initially I thought he was heading into the kitchen for his dinner, but instead he trotted up the stairs.

"How cute," I thought. "He's going to check on the baby!"

Several seconds later, rhythmic retching noises floated downstairs, followed by a final, thundering hack.

Alex and I looked at each other.

"Did he seriously just go upstairs to throw up?" I asked. (Our room is the only carpeted area of the house. Courteous dogs would throw up on the hardwood or the linoleum, I think.)

"Sounds like it," came Alex's response, as we dragged ourselves upright.

Reporting to our room with paper towels and rug spray in tow, we found Jasper reclining at the top of the steps, giving us the innocent face. Stepping carefully, we scanned the floor, trying hard not to wake Brynna. No piles of dog-sick appeared, even once we broke out the flashlight.

It was either a false alarm, or he ate it back up before we could get upstairs. I am slightly ashamed to admit that we don't really have a preference either way.

And Brynna slept right through it.