don’t read this while you’re eating

My roommate is out of town. Her daughter is staying with a friend. I have the whole house to myself… and of course, our many animals. This includes the dog.

Dog has some issues with mistaking carpet for grass. It’s not too bad anymore, but we still keep her in the kennel at night for this reason. Last night, at bedtime, I put her in it. Not even an hour later, and when I am fast asleep, I am awoken by her barking. I let her outside. She doesn’t do anything. I put her on her leash and attach the leash to the kitchen table. This way, she’s not stuck in that little kennel, and from the kitchen table, her leash reaches her big cozy bed, her food and water, and fresh air. And not to mention, if she did go to the bathroom, it is on hard floor rather than carpet. I go back to bed.

I wake up early this morning so that I can take her for a walk up the mountain in the backyard. Good thing I got up early, because when I find myself entering the kitchen, I am greeted with not one, not two, but three piles diarrhea dog poo on the kitchen floor… and various streaks of it all over that she had obviously walked through. But calling it poo is a severe understatement. There is a bit of cuteness attached to the word ‘poo’ but there was nothing cute about this. There is no other way to describe the stuff on that kitchen floor other than S-H-I-T… in liquid form. Lovely way to start the morning, don’t you think? Who knows when she did her business - one pile had a hard crust forming while another was as soft as if it had just come out. The streaks were set in stone.

I spent the better part of half an hour trying to get that “poo” off the floor. I let her outside and she faked a pee (she does this, fakes it like a woman might orgasms). I let her out a few minutes later and she goes again (possibly real this time, possibly fake). Then she wants to go out again and she squats like she’s going to poo… but instead, more diarrhea drips out. I felt bad because she was obviously very uncomfortable, but words can not express how happy I was that the dog was doing that outside this time. I shower her with “good girl!”s and try to reiterate the “inside bad, outside good” idea. I was so proud of her… for about 30 seconds.

In her excitement, she runs around, back to her pile (or puddle rather) of poo and begins to lap it up. I scream. She comes away immediately, and I am mortified and will not let her near my face. Not even a minute later, she goes back and does it again, but this time my yelling didn’t stop her. She only did it for a second or two, but that was a second or two too long. She comes to my feet and smiles up at me. Her breath stinks like her butt and my cheeks twinge with that near-vomiting feeling. I give her a pat anyway and we go inside.

So there you have it, a very real (and very literal) example of the phrase “eating shit for breakfast.” Oh boy, it’s going to be a fun week.

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