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adventures in dogsitting
May. 4th, 2006 12:31 pmThis morning, I awakened, sans one earplug (I put those in earlier, when dad was up and about), and stumbled into the kitchen to check on the boys. Neal, our fabulous gimp dog, is an escape artist. He can't walk more than a couple steps without rolling over, but he can escape traps that would confound Houdini. True to form, the barricade for the back hallway was ajar and both dogs were waiting for me in the kitchen. As soon as Bailey saw me, he ran away. He always does that.
There was one small puddle near the desk. Probably Bailey's doing. And through the hallway, by the back door, a steaming pile of poo. I sighed, blocked off the area of the poo, and wandered out to read, determined not to deal with dog effluvia before breakfast. I did, at least, place paper toweling over the pee.
Later, mom called. I told her the boys had left presents. She asked me to pick up the poo. I couldn't really object, as I'd already had breakfast by this point.
I stepped in front of the dryer to grab a poo bag and realized my feet were wet. In fact, the whole damn rug was wet. One of the dogs had carefully soaked the rug, leaving the floor perfectly pristine (except for the pile of dog logs).
I grunted in disgust, removed the poo, wadded the rug up in front of the wash, and wiped my feet before heading back to the bathroom to scrub them.
I proceeded to get fully dressed (shoes and all) before going back out there and making boy boys go outside for awhile. Bailey doesn't like to listen to me, so I uprooted him and herded him out. My only concern was that Neal didn't slide along the unwashed floor.
I can't find any nature's miracle. I can't use any regular cleaning compounds or dish soap. Mom hates the smell of vinegar, or I'd use that. I guess I'll leave the cleansing up to my parents, when they return home from whence they came.
me? I think I might move the crown vic out of the garage so that I can go run some errands on my own in a bit.
First though, I'll go see what Neal wants. And I'll try to find my missing earplug.
There was one small puddle near the desk. Probably Bailey's doing. And through the hallway, by the back door, a steaming pile of poo. I sighed, blocked off the area of the poo, and wandered out to read, determined not to deal with dog effluvia before breakfast. I did, at least, place paper toweling over the pee.
Later, mom called. I told her the boys had left presents. She asked me to pick up the poo. I couldn't really object, as I'd already had breakfast by this point.
I stepped in front of the dryer to grab a poo bag and realized my feet were wet. In fact, the whole damn rug was wet. One of the dogs had carefully soaked the rug, leaving the floor perfectly pristine (except for the pile of dog logs).
I grunted in disgust, removed the poo, wadded the rug up in front of the wash, and wiped my feet before heading back to the bathroom to scrub them.
I proceeded to get fully dressed (shoes and all) before going back out there and making boy boys go outside for awhile. Bailey doesn't like to listen to me, so I uprooted him and herded him out. My only concern was that Neal didn't slide along the unwashed floor.
I can't find any nature's miracle. I can't use any regular cleaning compounds or dish soap. Mom hates the smell of vinegar, or I'd use that. I guess I'll leave the cleansing up to my parents, when they return home from whence they came.
me? I think I might move the crown vic out of the garage so that I can go run some errands on my own in a bit.
First though, I'll go see what Neal wants. And I'll try to find my missing earplug.
