Remember the adage, “some days you’re the dog and some days the hydrant”. This morning at o’dark hundred my puppy woke me up. Groggy and half asleep I let him out of his crate. That’s when the “fit literally hit the sham”. His wet tail whacked me in the leg and my foggy brain flashed danger. Closer inspection made me freeze in place.
The little tyke had an accident in his crate. His tail which he’s dipped in the mess now happily wagged and coated any surface it contacted. What to do? Scooping him up wasn’t a wise choice. Sacrificing a towel, I bundled him up and stood there pondering my next move. Choosing the lesser evil, I started the tub.
My sweet puppy’s tail was coated in poop…and the floor and God only knows what else. Scrubbing, rinsing and scrubbing some more I cleaned him up. Dried his coat and took him outside to finish relieving himself. Returning to the scene of the crime, I began bleaching his crate. ODE to Joy-not. Helpful little guy tried to help. So, not loving life.
Once he was safely nestled in his clean crate, I surveyed the damage. The floor, the duvet cover, the wall and my pajamas. I bleached every surface and stripped the bedding and my clothes. I showered and started a load of wash. Forty-five minutes after the shit hit everything, I fell back into bed. Aren’t puppies the best?