Poo-prises
I came home today to “poo-prises” (thanks to my friend K for that term) or poop surprises in my spare bedroom. Apparently Baby Paw has some intestinal issues of a serious kind because they were clearly his and he clearly couldn’t wait until I got home. I won’t get into detail but when you own dogs, you know after a while who owns which pile o’ poo. This was clearly Baby Paw. His bathroom habits as of late haven’t been quite normal but I had hoped he was over whatever was ailing him. Alas, that is not the case and he will be going to the vet tomorrow. Needless to say, I was not a happy person arriving home to poo-prises. And unfortunately, it’s just hard to maintain my cool, as I referenced in an earlier post this week about just rolling with the punches when bad crap happens (pun intended). Instead of being a calm, rational adult, I reverted back to my inner 13 year old for a moment and lashed out with a small episode of Tourette’s syndrome. I’m not making light of that for people who suffer from it. That’s the best way to describe the colorful expletives that shot out of my mouth upon discovering the poo-prises.
My evening agenda was essentially derailed. I had planned on walking both the Paws and then getting some Tae Bo in, followed by dinner and relaxing. What happened instead was 20 minutes of cleaning up said poo-prises, walking the dogs for 45 minutes, eating dinner, steam-cleaning the poo-prise carpet and finally relaxing around 8:30. So not one of my more enjoyable evenings. Poop happened and I can’t change that. I’m in a much better mood now – of course that could be the glass of wine I consumed with dinner, but really, what does it matter? The poo-prise episode has passed and I am once again calm and rational.
When you say the poo-prise episode has passed, was the pun intended?
hugs!
Jen
September 19, 2007
[...] Revised agenda for the evening included taking care of the paws, changing out of my work clothes, feeding myself, and then tackling the poo. 90 minutes later, two rooms with carpet were vacuumed and steamvac’d. Had to clean the carpet in another room as well b/c the Chocolate Dog threw up in there on Sunday. What kills me is that most of my first floor is either tile or hardwood floor and everything upstairs including the stairs is carpet. And yet where did the Chocolate Dog go to leave my poo-prises … the freaking carpet in my office upstairs, which unfortunately was the only door I hadn’t closed upstairs before I left for work yesterday. He actually took the time to travel upstairs and poop all over that carpet. Why make the extra effort when he could have just pooped downstairs on the tile? He must have some high poo standards or something. I’ll never be able to get inside the dog’s mind on that one b/c this isn’t the first time he’s done this. [...]
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