S#!+ storm

Warning:  Do not read while eating.

Clearly the dogs aren't getting enough attention.  Now that we have Jake squared away with a healthy tummy and lots of hugs, Veronica is getting back at us for all the love she's had to share.  Yesterday morning we slept through the alarm and got out of bed 41 minutes late.  Chris ran for the shower, and I fed the dogs and started the coffee.  Jake finishes eating first, so he gets let out first.  Veronica waits a minute until Jake is back in, then gets let out.  Well, perhaps I waited a minute too long, because when I let Jake back in and let her out, I noticed a smell so foul and pungent that I had to find it.  First I had to find my glasses.  Once I could see, I went back out to the great room to find a large token of Veronica's affection in a sloppy mess on the floor.  I ran and quickly picked it up, not only because we were running 41 minutes late, but also because the stench was unbearable.  In my haste, I got some on my finger.  Yuck.  I ran to the sink to wash my hands, but on my way to the sink I stepped in a trail that Veronica left on her way to the door.  Off to a bad start?  I 'd say so.  I cleaned it up, then took a mini shower.

On a normal Tuesday I leave around 7:30, and Chris sticks around until around 11, which leaves him plenty of time to let the dogs out one more time before he leaves.  I get home around 5:15, so the are never without a potty break for more than 6 hours.  Yesterday he had to leave early because he had an exam or something trivial like that.  I wondered if I could make it at my lunch hour to let them out, but I didn't get the chance.  When I pulled into the driveway at 5:15, I raced inside, wondering what kind of mess I would find.  Then I thought I was being paranoid.  They're not babies.  It's been what, like ten hours?  Jeez.  I don't know if I could hold it that long myself.  So I opened the door and was punched in the face with the unpleasant aroma of bloody poo. Then I saw what had occurred, and it shocked me.  The first thing I did was grab my camera, like a good mom (picture is too graphic to show) and then I let them both out. The dogs were caked in it.  I wanted to cry.  Then I opened the doors, put on fans and lit candles.  Then I took the covers off the beds and put them in the wash.  I had to wipe and vaccum and clorox the cage and surrounding areas.  (Apparently when poop dries, it crumbles and becomes dust.  Poop dust.)  I had to Lysol spray the naked dog beds.  I had to wash the dogs.  I had to wash the dog towels.  Then, I had to feed them.  Dinner was an hour late for them.  Then I changed my dirty clothes and washed off.  Then, I laid down on the couch to watch a little TV.  The little poop machine saw how comfortable I was and thought she'd join me on the couch.  Even though her bowels ruined my evening, she's too cute to resist. Then the phone rang.  It was Chris.  "I just had the hardest test I've ever had, etc.".  I listened for a little bit, then I cut him off and said, "I just had the hardest evening I've ever had.  Your dogs were caked in dog crap.  And now they're squeaky clean.  What's for dinner?"