Anyone who knows us knows we were given a puppy at Christmas. Anyone who knows me knows this was without a doubt NOT what I wanted. I was so unhappy about our new addition that I vowed not to have anything to do with the dog nor would I clean any of her mess. I was told I would not have to because the three boys in the house would take care of anything and everything that had to do with that dog.
Last week, while the kids and I were out for 90 minutes, the dog fell sick and could not hold her poo in her crate. I am sure she would have held it if she could. The stench of sick poo crept out and filled the entire main level of our house. The horrific smell must be the result of diarrhea having such a greater surface area that regular old garden variety poo. It was really sour and upon the first contact with your nares made everyone want to puke. We immediately investigated the smell coming from the bedroom. (New drapes in there now no longer having new drape smell on them). Projectile POO everywhere! She was standing and I do mean STANDING over on one side of her just big enough crate as to not come in contact with the stinky lava slowly rolling towards her. A domino effect of aah, ewe, gross followed from the boys and I began to fuss at the boys to help lift the crate and take both dog and crate outside to be washed. After bathing the dog and the crate, we come in, dry off Maggie,the dog, and low and behold Maggie squirts out another fresh lava pile on the carpet. I start to yell now for the boys to start cleaning up the poo on the carpet and in the bedroom on the hardwoods before they crusted over.
They want dinner instead. Imagine that! I screamed until Sammy (10) cleaned the carpet mess and promised to tackle the bedroom mess after a little food. I argue with him until he finally yells back "OK I'll get my own dinner and Gavin you haven't done any cleaning."
That is how the vicious cycle starts... I yell at Sam and Sam yells at Gavin.
Gavin (6) sitting at the bar crying quietly saying "I don't know how to clean up the mess."
"It's OK Gavin, your too young to handle any of this and it is not your fault nor your responsibility."
"OK Mommy!"
Pan over to the mud room door where William finally enters:
"What stinks?"
"What does it smell like? It is poo and it is everywhere! And honey you've got some cleaning to do."
William walks around to assess the damage.
Immediately starts to yell "Why is there still poo on the floor and why are ya'll sitting instead of cleaning?"
Picture this: The three of us Sam, Gavin and myself all in the kitchen.
Me saying "dog doo-ty not my job."
Sammy saying "I'm so hungry"
Gavin saying in his wee little voice " I'm too young to handle any of this. It is not my fault Mommy said and anyways it's not my responsibility, right Mommy?" Does this sound like another story we all know and love.
Back to yelling...
William: "The diarrhea is like hard plaster on the floor because you guys did not clean it up right away!"
Me: "Nope, I sure didn't"
Sammy: "I'm so hungry"
Gavin: "Not my responsibility and I'm too young to handle any of this."
Me: By now I am so angry that those famous words come out of my mouth:
"THAT IS IT! I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THAT DOG! EITHER I GO OR THE DOG GOES!"
Silence blanketed the house....
Sammy and Gavin eyes are searching their brains and looking for eye contact from me. Gavin softly sobs and Sammy gazes over and say in a very soft voice "Mom, will you come visit us?"
My eyes cracked a smile and the three of us busted out laughing. In the end I stayed the dog stayed and Dad cleaned up everything. Maggie is no longer sick and life is good again!
