If he’s not going to wear them, someone should

Ava and I are in Albuquerque again. I had to leave My Honey with the kids, the bipolar kitten, and Winnie the Wonder Mutt who is in her first heat.

Yeah, I’m the stupid pet owner that didn’t remake her appointment after she ate that ill-timed bowl of cat food just before her earlier appointment.

So, at the risk of raising the icky factor of this blog considerably, I need to point out that she is spending much of her time outside during this unfortunate development which is awful because it’s really hot out. The alternative is following her around with a wet paper towel to clean up the droplets she leaves behind.

Ick, right? I know, but bear with me. This gets funnier.

So Sassy – who is nine years old and up to this point hasn’t been very curious about the inner workings of the woman parts – wanted to know what was going on. I firmly believe that questions should be answered with complete truth and with as little embarrassment from the me as possible. Alternately, though, I also think that often too much detail freaks out my kid who is still quite immature when it comes to this stuff – just the way I like her. She’s nine. She has a whole lifetime to deal with this crap.

So I’m trying to explain what’s happening to the dog and how that relates to all women. The Bandit is providing unnecessary sound effects. Sassy is looking more and more horrified.

I happily fled to the airport.

So My Honey is at home trying to figure out what to do with the Winnie who is not happy about staying outside. Guilt runneth over.

Then he made a brilliant move. He wrestled her into a pair of The Bandit’s Star Wars underpants. Swear to God. He won’t send me a picture. Something about dignity was mentioned.

Whatever. I can’t believe I missed this.

What brilliant solutions have you come up for these kinds of situations? What was it that prompted you to learn about birds and bees?