I am NOT a Cow

Sometimes I don't understand my mommy.  We were out walking on a beautiful morning and I walked onto a big area of long grass, my favorite kind.  I like to eat grass and when it gets tall, it is delicious.  So I grabbed a mouthful and while I was enjoying munching that grass, this is what I heard:  "Ethel Frances, what are you doing?  What are you eating?  Are you eating grass again?  Drop it?  Why are you eating that?  What do you think you are -- a cow?"  Wow.  She really spit out a mouthful that time and even though she was angry, I kept on chewing that delicious grass.

Not only did Mommy keep fussing at me, but either she forgot that I am a dog or she thought I forgot.  This is what I heard next:  "Ethel Frances!  Are you still eating grass?  Didn't I tell you to drop it?  If you don't, you will get a tummy ache and you will vomit!  Stop eating grass!  Are you a cow or a dog?"  I am glad I can't talk because I have no idea how to answer those questions.  All I know is I am a dog and I like to eat grass.  Is that such a big deal?  Just because I eat grass doesn't mean I'm a cow.  I love to eat mommy's food, too.  When I eat her food, does she think I am a person?  Of course she doesn't so why, when I eat grass, does she keep asking if I'm a cow?

I would also ask her what vomit means.  I never heard that word and I love to learn.  Well, in order to make the rest of our walk pleasant, I did what Mommy said and I spit out the grass.  That wasn't so easy because some long pieces seemed to be stuck to my tongue.  I had to stick my tongue all the way out and push it against my top teeth and then drag my tongue across my teeth into my mouth.  That worked.  The long pieces fell out onto the sidewalk.  Mommy looked me right in the face and she could see that I did indeed spit out and drop the grass that I was enjoying so much, just to make her happy.  She said, "Thank you, Ethel Frances!  You are a good girl for dropping that grass.  I know you like to eat it but it will make you throw up and I don't want you to feel bad and I don't want to clean it up!"

I thought about everything Mommy said about cows and dogs and grass and I figured out that vomit means throw up.  I found out I was right when it happened just after we got home.  I started gagging on a long piece of grass, and out it came -- with my breakfast.  Mommy came in when she heard me gag and she said, "Oh no, Ethel Frances.  That grass did make you vomit.  Let's go outside so you don't throw up all over the house.  OK, honey?  Don't be afraid.  You will be fine as soon as the rest of the grass comes up."

Mommy stood with me until I was finished and she wiped my face and gave me a big hug.  "Do you feel OK now, Ethel Frances?"  she asked so gently.  I wagged my tail and gave her a kiss and ran in the house.  "Guess what, Ethel Frances.  You got better just in time for dinner!"  As I was eating my dinner, I decided that eating grass wasn't such a good idea after all and I might as well just leave it for the cows.