So last night, I'm sitting up in the gun room, having an adult beverage in the form of a Southern Comfort & water while reading a book on the Great Mutiny of the Indian Army against the British. Lagniappe is lying on the floor nearby, watching me closely to see if I'll set the book aside and produce another dog biscuit or animal cracker for him. But this night it sucks to be him, because I'm out of both.
The phone rings, and I go downstairs to answer it and talk for a while. It's actually a fairly long call from an old acquaintance, so when I return to my book and my drink, the nice, academic mood has been pretty much wiped out. I sit down, pick up my book again, and have another sip of my drink. I notice that it's almost gone, so I finish it off and pour another. Normally I just have one but as I'm now starting over with my reading session, I may as well start over with the drink, too. And I just don't feel like I've already had one, despite the nearly empty glass suggesting otherwise.
It's at this point that I decide to go back down and get the phone and bring it upstairs with me, lest I be disturbed again. So I go down to get the phone, and as I reach the base of the steps to go back up, I hear something making a very familiar and distinctive sound:
Slup, Slup, Slup, Slup...
I race back up the stairs just in time to catch Lagniappe polishing off my second Southern Comfort.
And he wasn't even trying to be sneaky about it. He just stood there looking at me, licking his snout as if to say "Hey, this stuff's all right!"
Of course I hollered at him and he took off to go hide downstairs. Damn dog. And now it dawns on me why the last bit of that first glass tasted funny. Ew!
A minute later I realize that I probably should keep an eye on him since he just drank two people-sized alcoholic drinks so I call him to come back upstairs. I whistle and he comes running back up the steps, then stumbles or trips on the top one and bangs into the door frame as he comes into the room. He just looks at me for a second and then drops to the rug and sprawls out on his side. Great. He's trashed.
I resisted the temptation to get one of his toys and throw it down the hall for him to fetch. That would have just been mean. So I watched him for the next couple of hours, but all he did was snore. No word on whether or not he woke up with a headache this morning.
Guess I'd better put my beverages up out of the K9's reach from now on before I wind up having to enroll him in a 12-paw program.