It was a bad day today. Really bad. Our house smells like diarrhea, I'm not kidding. I woke up at 530 like usual and set to work peeling and coring apples, I was making applesauce. The dogs had been outside already and I stuck the burner on fairly high to get the apples and water boiling. One dog shat on the ground. Poop #1. I was mad. MAD. They had already been out! I cleaned it up, I smelled burning. The char on the apples was unsalvageable. It's that damn thin bottom! I chucked them out and ran to the store for containers. I came back and some dog had puked. On the only carpet we have. Sick! So I cleaned it up, I wasn't sure if it was the same dog, two of them looked guilty. (I know think the one looked guilty because he ate it!) I fed the dogs breakfast (one wouldn't eat his) and moved on to peeling pears. It would be pearsauce instead. I woke Shane up...a few times and when I came out from the bedroom time number 3 I caught some dog heaving on my rug and all over the bottom of my white couch. And not normal full-of-dog-food-vomit. No, this was water-y putrid stuff. I swore a few times, shed a few tears, it was my white couch after all. I couldn't scrub the rug to get all the vomit out. I put a plastic bag down to protect the hardwood floors and dumped vinegar on the rug tog et rid of the smell.
I finished canning the pears (successfully burning my whole thumb with boiling pear juice) when I saw some dog squatting near the front door. He took a big fat shat on the floor. I was mad! But also a little frightened, this dog must be sick! I got down on hands and knees to clean it up. The house was starting to reek. I cleaned the floors, washed the dishes and then Shane heard it, the sound of diarrhea hitting the floor. Some dog was laying a wet one by the front door, it splashed right up the walls. Shat everywhere. Everywhere. I told Shane to take some dog to his own backyard, I can't deal with anymore vomit or poop. I donned some gloves, and with a whole roll of paper towel and a lot of vinegar scrubbed the floor clean. There you go, three poops and two vomits and I'm not even at work yet. (We'll keep an eye on the dog, you know, to make sure he doesn't die!)
I finished canning the pears (successfully burning my whole thumb with boiling pear juice) when I saw some dog squatting near the front door. He took a big fat shat on the floor. I was mad! But also a little frightened, this dog must be sick! I got down on hands and knees to clean it up. The house was starting to reek. I cleaned the floors, washed the dishes and then Shane heard it, the sound of diarrhea hitting the floor. Some dog was laying a wet one by the front door, it splashed right up the walls. Shat everywhere. Everywhere. I told Shane to take some dog to his own backyard, I can't deal with anymore vomit or poop. I donned some gloves, and with a whole roll of paper towel and a lot of vinegar scrubbed the floor clean. There you go, three poops and two vomits and I'm not even at work yet. (We'll keep an eye on the dog, you know, to make sure he doesn't die!)
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