It was winter, and there were only a few of us in the house; the peace was almost total, broken only by the soft murmuring of the dogs and the crackling of the coals. Among those we went there was Margarita, a loyal customer who always came with her two beautiful golden retrievers with white fur. There were also some clueless “guiris” and, of course, Mireia, El Caminant – or Josep Maria, the inventor of beer that winter – and me.
The Walker had decided that year he would become a brewmaster. It had been locked in the garage for weeks, tucked between kettles, hops, barley and a couple of old brewing books. From that improvised laboratory two jewels were born that we christened with all the affection and humor in the world: the strong one, a sip that almost fell over with a single sip, was called ESKERP , and the softer and lighter one , MANUELA In these we had, between sips and experiments, enjoying the cold and the calm… until the next day arrived.
The Drama of the Night. Mas Torrencito’s Drunken Dog.
The next morning, Margarida approached us, visibly upset. With a fixed look and an expression that mixed awakening and despair, he let me go without further ado:
– I’m leaving! I couldn’t sleep at all tonight.
I looked at her in surprise. Margarida used to be the calmest person in the world; nothing affected him.
– But what happened? I asked him, a little puzzled.
She, with a bored sigh, brought a hand to her head.
– Ugh! You don’t know… The dog… All night vomiting. All night! And not just anything… what a plague! I had to sleep with the door open so I wouldn’t suffocate!
I tried to hold back the laughter, but between Margarida’s face and the thought of her dog vomiting like there was no tomorrow, it was complicated. I patted her on the shoulder a couple of times and tried to calm her down.
– Come on, Marga, it won’t be anything, it will pass.
We let her go to breakfast while we, intrigued, watched the golden. The poor thing looked drunk, staggering from side to side, with an expression of perplexity seldom seen in a dog. But what could he have eaten to be like this?
The Investigation and the First Clue
I went straight to the kitchen to tell Mireia and Caminant about the golden. We were left thinking… what the hell had the poor dog eaten to end up in this state? Right in the middle of our musings, a deafening scream echoed throughout the house.
-Miguel! Miguel, come down!
I jumped out of my chair and ran down the stairs. There was Margarita, pointing at a new pool of vomit with a mixture of horror and resignation.
– Look at this! he said to me, pointing to the puddle.
There it was, first class vomit, with an aroma that flooded the entire corridor and made us tear up. There was no doubt about it: there was something strange in this dog’s stomach.
Trying to make sense of the matter, I pulled out my cell phone and took a photo to send to Judith, our trusted vet. In a moment, Judith answered:
– But these are great, Miquel!
– Grown ups? what kind
“Well, they look like cereal… I’d swear it’s barley.”
I relayed the message to Margarita, who, calmer, was relieved that it was nothing serious. However, we still didn’t understand where he had gotten that fermented barley.
The Revelation of the Mystery. Mas Torrencito’s Drunken Dog.
The hours passed, and although the atmosphere seemed to return to calm, the dogs continued to roam. Suddenly, I noticed the white golden slip into the bar and then disappear into the summer kitchen, right where the Walker had the barley bucket for the beers. Wasting no time, I went behind her and there I saw her, sticking her snout into the bucket and feeding herself a feast of fermented barley.
– HOSTIIIIIIIII! I shouted, between laughter and surprise. I know what’s up!
Margarida, who had already heard my screams, ran down the stairs.
– What happened?
– She’s drunk! Your dog farted on the Walker’s barley!
At first, Margarida couldn’t believe it. But when the scene made sense, he broke into fits of giggles and nerves.
– Do I have an alcoholic dog? he asked between laughs.
“Well, it seems so,” I replied. He likes beer! She is a golden with very particular tastes!
The Drunken Dog’s Hangover
Everyone present started laughing. How could we imagine that poor golden, with such an innocent face, had to crunch a quarter of a bucket of fermented barley? But, of course, we are talking about a golden: these furry ones leave nothing edible untasted.
In the end, Margarita could only resign.
– What do I do now? he asked, still with a suppressed laugh.
– Nothing, woman, let the monkey sleep, it will last a long time.
And so it was. Golden slept like there was no tomorrow, while we kept the barley bucket under lock and key. Hours later, when the little dog woke up, her wobble had disappeared and everything was back to normal.
That day remained as an unforgettable anecdote: the story of the drunken dog who had the party of her life with Caminant’s homemade beer. Since then, every time I brew beer, I can’t help but think of that night and the golden boozer, our dear friend who unwittingly taught us that even dogs can have their hangover days Cheers! 🐾🍻
HAPPY Wednesday everyone!!!
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