This is turning out to be a banner day. I was propped up in bed, typing away a few minutes ago when a heard a loud gurgling sound come out of my dog, Phoebe. Nothing really noteworthy about this; Phoebe’s sounded like a sewer that was backing up for most of her life. Well, about 10 minutes later I notice an atrocious aroma and move the laptop to one side so I could see her.
That when I saw it. Yup, you guessed it: 100% pure canine fecal matter, right there on my bed, between me and the dog. Not just any feces, either — oh, no. This is the good stuff: sick dog feces. A smell that could knock a buzzard off a shitwagon and a consistency that guarantees it’ll soak through at least two layers of bedding. As a bonus prize, she had a fair amount on her fur as well.
Not being a big fan of sitting in an ersatz dog toilet, I got up and attempted to grab the dog to force her outside while I cleaned the mess up. While this would normally be a simple maneuver for me, my little dance with the physician ealier today slowed me down enough that Phoebe got away and ran around the bed!
What had been a fairly localized, if noxious, incident now involved every piece of bedding on the bed (fortunately, no soak-through to the mattress). I finally got a hold of Phoebe and got her outside. I slowly made my way back upstairs and started pulling the bedding off so I could start washing the sheets when I get a phone call from Kathy.
(Oh, I did I fail to mention that Kathy was out picking our son Aaron up from his friend’s house? It’s best for Phoebe that she was, because given the number of bodily discharge issues in the past few days, I don’t know if Phoebe would’ve made it outside)
Naturally, Kath is livid. On top of having to deal with the two boys more or less solo for the next couple of days courtesy of my snipping, now she has an extra batch of laundry and a dog that is looking increasingly like she’s sick.
And so it now stands. Kathy’s not back yet, and the dog’s still outside.