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Subj:.....Jasper And The Yeast Rolls (S622c) 
          From: LABLaughsClean on 11/25/2008
Photo from TexasCooking.com...
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We have a fox terrier by the name of Jasper.  He came to us in 
the summer of 2001 from the fox terrier rescue program.  For 
those of you, who are unfamiliar with this type of adoption, 
imagine taking in a 10 year old child about whom you know 
nothing and committing to doing your best to be a good 
parent. 

Like a child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies.  He 
will only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled 
as close to my face as he can get without actually performing 
a French kiss on me. 

Lest you think this is a bad case of 'no discipline,' I 
should tell you that Perry and I tried every means to break 
him of this habit including locking him in a separate bedroom 
for several nights.  The new door cost over $200.  But I digress. 

Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house.  Although the 
cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years 
overdue AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving for family, 
extended family, and a lot of friends that I like more than 
family most of the time. 

I was assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast 
dinner rolls for the two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend. 

I am still cursing the electrician for getting the new oven 
hooked up so quickly.  It was the only appliance in the 
whole darn house that worked, thus the assignment.  I made 
the decision to cook the rolls on Wed evening to reheat 
Thurs am.  Since the kitchen was freshly painted, you can 
imagine the odor.  Not wanting the rolls to smell like 
Sherwin Williams #586, I put the rolls on baking sheets 
and set them in the living room to rise for a few hours. 
Perry and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about 
an hour.  The rolls were ready to go in the oven. 

It was 8:30 PM.  When I went to the living room to retrieve 
the pans, much to my shock one whole pan of 12 rolls was 
empty.  I called out to Jasper and my worst nightmare became 
a reality.  He literally wobbled over to me.  He looked like 
a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin 
Tire man wrapped up in fur.  He groaned when he walked.  I 
swear even his cheeks were bloated. 

I ran to the phone and called our vet.  After a few seconds 
of uproari ous laughter, he told me the dog would probably 
be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every 
2 hours for the rest of the night.  God only knows why I 
thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than my 
kids did when they were sick.  Suffice it to say that by
the time we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. 
He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for the 
night. 

We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; put the 
dog out to relieve himself.  Well, the dog was as drunk as 
a sailor on his first leave.  He was running into walls, 
falling flat on his butt and most of the time when he was 
walking his front half was going one direction and the 
other half was either dragging the grass or headed 
90 degrees in another direction. 

He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and 
pee at the same time.  When he ran down the small incline 
in our back yard he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended 
up running into the fence. 

His pupils were dilated and he was as dizzy as a loon.  I 
endured another few seconds of laughter from the vet 
(second call within 12 hours) before he explained that 
the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he was 
indeed drunk. 

He assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go 
through, it would wear off after about 4 or 5 hours and 
to keep giving him Pepto Bismol. 

Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, Perry and I 
loaded him up and took him with us to my sister's house 
for the first Thanksgiving meal of the day. 

My sister lives outside of Muskogee on a ranch, (10 to 15 
minute drive).  Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less 
12) and drunk dog leaning from the back seat onto the 
console of the car between Perry and I, we took off. 

Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but 
believe me when I say that after eating a tray of risen 
unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP.  These burps were pure 
Old Charter.  They would have matched or beat any smell in 
a drunk tank at the police station.  But that's not the 
worst of it. 

Now he was beginning to fart and they so smelled like 
baked rolls.  God strike me dead if I am not telling the 
truth!  We endured this for the entire trip to Karen's, 
thankful she didn't live any further away than she did. 

Once Jasper was firmly placed in my sister's garage with 
the door locked, we finally sat down to enjoy our first 
Thanksgiving meal of the day.  The dog was the topic of 
conversation all morning long and everyone made trips 
to the garage to witness my drunken dog, each returning 
with a tale of Jasper's latest endeavor to walk without 
running into something. Of course, as the old adage goes, 
'what goes in must come out' and Jasper was no exception. 

Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen, unbaked
yeast rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block
up my behind, but alas a dog's digestive system is quite
different from yours or mine.  I discovered this was a
mixed blessing when we prepared to leave Karen's house.
Having discovered his 'packages' on the garage floor, we
loaded him up in the car so we could hose down the floor. 

This was another naive decision on our part.  The blast of 
water from the hose hit the poop on the floor and the poop 
on the floor with stood the blast from the hose.  It was 
like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure. 

We finally tried to remove it with a shovel.  I (obviously 
no one else was going to offer their services) had to get 
on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the 
remnants off of the floor.  And as if this wasn't degrading
enough, the darn dog in his drunken state had walked 
through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage 
floor that had to be brushed too. 

Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we 
took him home and dropped him off before we left for our 
second Thanksgiving dinner at Perry's sister's house. 

I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is
back to normal both in size and temperament.  He has had
a bath and is no longer tricolor.  None the worse for wear
I presume.  I am also happy to report that just this
evening I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside
my closet door. 

It appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10
of them but decided hiding 2 of them for later would not be 
a bad idea.  Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to: 
'How to clean unbaked dough from the carpet.' 

And how was your day.

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