My sister is a licker!

Last weekend, in addition to dog sitting for the in-laws, a sister came to stay for a few days. Due to the nature of this story, she has requested that she remain unnamed. So we shall call her Sister X.

Sunday was a beautiful day so I invited everyone to go with me on a family walk. JB suggested walking to East Grand Rapids so we could hit up the grocery store for dinner supplies. So off we go, Sister X, JB, I, Olivia in her stroller, Lexi, and Lucy. Old Maggie would not have fared too well on the 3 mile + walk so she had to stay home. (She had been sort of dragging behind on my short walks around the school—perhaps because she’s not accustomed to walking on cement.) I knew that she would not stop trying to keep up though until her body died of exhaustion and I do not want Maggie buying the farm on my watch.

Soon after starting this walk, I remembered why JB and I do not go on walks together. A walk for JB is a slow jog to the rest of the human race. Or at least, to the Teague race. Sister X and I were huffing and puffing and giving it our all just to keep within sight of JB and the dogs. (And our sister Annie walks even slower! She could never go on a walk with JB.) I’m sure Olivia was having fun getting pushed in her stroller at such a high speed. She probably thought it was like a ride in the car!

JB insisted that we were the odd ones, and that no, it wasn’t just a Teague thing, because our brother walked with JB to EGR a few months ago and they kept the same pace. Whatever. I don’t believe you, JB.

I comfort myself with the fact that at least JB will never be overtaken on a walk by a stealthy prowler, because no one can catch up to him without giving themselves away with their huffing and puffing. Either that or JB will be half a mile ahead of them before they realize, “Rats! How did he get up there? He’s too far now! Better find me some other victim. Perhaps there’s a Teague girl strolling around here somewhere…”

Anyway, by the time we reached EGR we were quite winded. After JB and I bought groceries, we all made a pit stop at Jersey Junction for ice cream. While JB went to the restroom Sister X and I were enjoying our cones, harnessing the dogs, and watching Olivia.

Big Lexi of course wanted in on the treat action, but I surely wasn’t giving her any of my cone. 1.) it’s MINE and 2.) she eats poop. Poop eaters don’t share food with me.

But Sister X, perhaps nostalgic of her childhood when she would share her cone with our esteemed Jack Russell, Reba, held out her cone for Lexi to lick with her long doggie tongue. Lick, lick.

I was flabberghasted. Surely Sister X was done with her ice cream, and was just letting Lexi have a lick before she threw it out?

“You’re done with that, right?” I ask her, as she brings the cone to her mouth.

“No.”

“She eats POOP!!” I exclaim.

Sister X stops the cone in midair and gets this shocked look on her face. Yeah, right. Like anyone doesn’t know that Lexi eats Maggie’s poop with glee, all the time! (In fact, a few weeks ago as I was petting Lexi I saw it smeared down the side of her tongue. Ew!!)

She bring her napkin up to the cone, and I assume that she’s really going to throw the whole thing out now.

Nope.

She just wipes off the ice cream and takes a big lick herself.