Typical Monday

Disclaimer: You know it's going to be a doozy when the disclaimer comes at the beginning of a story! But I want to warn you, this post is pretty gross so please go back to Facebook now if you have a weak stomach.


That night was rough. And oddly enough, it had nothing to do with having a new baby at home. She was completely innocent and blessedly immune to the trials and tribulations at our house on Monday, September 19th, 2011. The day that will live in infamy.

It all started when I walked in the door after a long day at work...

As I walked in the door, H said "Don't freak out! I know he smells like shit and I'm about to bathe him right now. He rolled in doodoo on his roam and now he smells terrible!"

The "he" H was referring to was our Chocolate Lab, Charlie. Aka Chuck. He likes to go for an afternoon roam around our neighborhood, but he usually comes back unscathed. And he had indeed rolled in some serious doodoo pile somewhere along our street. The whole house smelled like a bucket of crap. It smelled SO terrible it made my eyes water. And I'm used to smelling some pretty stinky stuff!

So H grabbed Chuck's leash and some shampoo and hauled his dirty butt outside for a bath. The poor dog was COVERED in dried, caked-on doodoo. It was all over him, including his previously red collar. Charlotte, Lois (the little dog) and I walked outside with them to watch the rather amusing spectacle. Then we took a nice leisurely stroll around the 'hood so Chuck would dry off somewhat. Ahhh...peace and sanity still ruled at this point in the evening.

When we walked back inside after our walk, the ENTIRE house smelled like poo. I thought "What is the deal?!?! He just had a bath, he doesn't stink now, why does the house smell like the toilet at a fraternity house!?!?!?" We searched and searched and eventually found the culprit.

It was underneath the bed.

Apparently not only had he rolled in some other dog's "surprise", he'd also eaten it. Yep. I said eaten it. And then he threw it up in a nice, neat little pile underneath our bed. And it smelled about the way you would expect it to smell.

Now is the time to mention H has a very weak stomach. That means Super Mom here was left to clean up that pile of disgustingness. He lifted the bed while I cleaned.

And all was right with the world again.

Until Chuck got on the couch and puked up the rest of his afternoon snack. At this point, I'm wondering exactly what kind of boots I want to make with dog hide, but I grab some paper towels and start cleaning. H grabs a garbage bag and attempts to help me dispose of the mess.

And then H vomits on the floor, too!

Heaven help me! I'm about to have a purse to go with those boots now!

So I cleaned up THREE piles of vomit last night. Count 'em: THREE! Like I said, it was a rough night in the Hysterical District. Thankfully sweet little innocent Charlotte slept right on through this debacle or I would have had to have been committed. But it's nothing a BIG glass of wine on my doodoo-free porch couldn't wash away!

Thank you Lord for dogs and husbands. My life would be awfully boring without them! But I'm warning you, think long and hard before you complain about another shitty Monday. It could always be worse!