You may not want to read this because it's a bit gross.
Maybe I should introduce myself. I am a wife, a mother, a nurse, and Mondays are my day off. Today I had plans to get groceries, organize the pantry, and maybe my closet. We all know plans change.
I was woken up at 6:30 this morning by my wonderful husband as he was getting ready for work. He said something to me that seemed important, but apparently I hadn't quite grasped. I rolled over and went back to sleep. A few minutes later, he was back. He informed me that he was going to vomit. Not because he was ill, but because our gorgeous Doberman, Eko, had pooed in the laundry room. He had to leave, which left me to get out of my cozy bed and go clean it up.
A common problem with Dobermans is their sensitive stomachs. My big baby was upset and so was his stomach. Why was he upset? Because we are replacing the carpet. To save a few bucks we decided to pull up and dispose of all the old carpet ourselves. Eko has a good life. He spends most of the day sleeping in the front room, following the patch of sun that creeps through. Once the sun has moved on, he relocates to our laundry room. Eko has spent the last two days wandering around the house trying to figure out why his home is in such disarray. He won't even lie on the blanket I put out for him.
The outcome of all this is diarrhea. My dog is very tall, even for a Dobie. When he squats, he still doesn't come anywhere near the ground. So imagine this happening in a small laundry room. The spray starts at knee height and trickles down.
I cleaned it up, my husband went off to work, and I got my son ready for school. Eko was quarantined to the laundry room. My plans now included getting Pepcid for the dog so this situation wouldn't be repeated.
With my son safely at school and my car filled with groceries, I pulled into the driveway. I barely even got the door open when the smell smacked me in the face like a UFC fighter. I was too late and round two was worse.
Eko was huddled in the corner with his ears down like he had done something awful. He got up and gingerly stepped over his mess. He didn't want to go near it any more than i did. I put him out in the yard. Now I had a decision to make. Get the groceries into the house or clean up this mess first? I would have to step over the mess to carry food from the garage into the house. That is disgusting. I needed to clean first. There was ice cream in the car melting, but it was a chance I had to take.
All my cleaning supplies were still out. I hadn't had a chance to put them away. Walls, trim, washer, blankets, and the door to the garage fell victim this time. How do you get dried poop off wood? Ugh. I finally won the battle with some bleach and a lot of rags.
My husband has been trying to get me to write a blog for a while. Won't he be proud knowing my first one was inspired by poo?
I just looked down to find a bleach spot on my favorite yoga pants. Darn.
