I Am a Dog. I Am About to Puke. Where Is the Good Rug?

Oh.
Oh no.
Something is… wrong.
Very wrong.
Oh, boy.
Yeah. No.
Nope.
Not okay.
Don’t get up, Mom.
You’re so
Comfy
On the couch.
I… got this.
I’ll just—
Urg. Ugh.
Oh boy.
Ohboyohboyohboy.
…
…
Actually.
…
Hold on just a second.
…
Maybe it’s fine.
I think it’s gone.
False alarm!
HALLELU—
…
Nope. Real alarm.
ICK, ick, ick, ick, ick, ick.
It’s comin’.
It is comin’.
FAST.
Get
To the rug—
The good rug—
NOW.
No, Mom—
Urrrrrp.
I absolutely
Hurrrrgh.
Cannot wait
Mmmmrgh!
To get
FLURRRRP!
Outside.
…
Yes, I can see—
Fuuuuubblewibbles.
—That we are standing
In front of this
Open door.
…
Mom,
Plrrrrrgowowow
Don’t distract me
During this
Sacred and
Oooozawoozah
Terrible
Time
With a side-trip
To the laminate flooring,
Or the tile,
Or
Ickydoodles
That tarp
Dad never put away.
Please,
Hiccabloot!
Stop blocking me
As I attempt
To take the long way
FlafffferNOBBLES!
Around the house
To the fancy rug—the shaggy, fluffy, tummy-friendly rug that’s so hard to clean—
So I can puke.
…
…
…
Oh, thank goodness for the good rug.
IFEELSOMUCHBETTER
I’m ready to go outside now.