It is 4:28 am and I have just bathed my dog, washed over 1200 sq feet of flooring (just 12 hours after the housekeeper left) and have showered myself.
I woke up hearing my elderly dog slip and slide on the newly washed floors/she also has hip dysplasia. So, rather than hear her struggle since she obviously had to go outside, I got up to help her up and out. As I lifted her down the step, I realized whilst struggling to stand up, she had made a sissy.
When she was ready to come back inside, I found hubby’s sneakers (thankfully he never puts them away where they belong) and lifted her up off the grass. She retreated to her hideout in the laundry room and I was going to go upstairs and thought… let me pick up the soiled sheet that’s on the floor to dry the paws and that will be that. Well, since it’s now 4:33 am, clearly it wasn’t.
I noticed the pungent scent of shit upon walking back into the laundry room. Desperately searching for the evidence, I found nothing… that is, until I got that much closer to the dog. Apparently, the wetness I thought was urine, was also a bit diarrhea.
I will tell you, I did pause and think- it can wait til tomorrow…but the housekeeper was just here and tomorrow would look like a Jackson Pollack painting of shit.
After trying to get my 13 year old dog down to the morgue, I realized she wouldn’t budge unless I carried her 70 lb dead-weight body.
Another choice to be made: carry her and assume that I will have to shower, or have her slowly slip and slide several more times to the laundry room- until the morning. With only one, newly washed towel in sight, I decided to try and use that to save myself- and not use it to dry her afterwards.
The problem was, while trying to carry her like the exploding, pile of shit she was, she struggled to be free as I blindly felt for each step- again, I could barely hold her let alone hold onto the railing. That means… her squirming wet assy-legs were rubbing against my bare legs.
Once we finished the shower (note to self: look into the water pressure), I helped her back up the stairs to her spot and again thought, I’ll just clean the new mess tomorrow.
With guilt on my side, I went back to the kitchen, grabbed the pine sol spray bottle, and went back to the basement, to wash the bottom of the stair area where she had fallen …. after I tried to safely place her on her paws.
Afterwards, I decided that I was basically up and would now wash the front entrance where the wetness was. But it didn’t stop there. You see, I then had to do the search for shit along the trail she would have taken to get to the front door from her den…and sure enough, droplets of feces found.
Therefore, I had no choice but to put on the stadium lights and search other possible pathways- desperately seeking shit sans glasses; that means, I essentially was crawling.
When the coast was clear, I had another pivotal decision to make: bathe myself in the laundry room sink or rope climb up the steps to my bathroom. I opted for “b,” Prima Ballerina toe-touching steps up the carpeted stairs.
There are two thoughts going through my overtired head: getting out of bed to find the rubbing alcohol in the hallway closet and dousing my extremities in it since I still feel filthy, or what mess will await me in a few hours since clearly, she had to take a shit?