Don’t worry, the guy in the picture is fine. An impromptu vet visit and some medication. He is all plugged up now. I didn’t sleep well Friday night. I had too much rich food at dinner. I kept drifting in and out of sleep. Around three or four A.M. I thought I smelled something. I my dozing state I sniffed my beard and fell back asleep. Although, my thoughts kept drifting a bit. No way I thought, it can’t be. The dogs didn’t poop in the house did they? Speaking of dogs, both of them were both noticeably absent from the bed. That wasn’t like them. Especially for Bleu, the guy in the picture. He usually lays right in between us. The smell subsided. I fell back asleep.
When I got out of bed on Saturday, I had forgotten about the incident. I strolled into the hallway and found Bleu right by the door. Which was my first alarm bell. Then I looked down at the tile floor and spotted his handy work. Just in time too. One more inch and my barefoot would have been in it.
Bleu started to walk toward me. Miraculously, he managed to avoid stepping in anything. As I picked him up and carefully stepped into the kitchen, I saw through our interior window into the living room. There was more, plus vomit. Four unique piles. One on each corner of the rug. Possibly some bizarre dog ritual.
I could tell Bleu needed to go outside. That he still wasn’t finished yet, but I had to clean up the hallway first. I didn’t want our other dog Jake stepping in it when he got up. So I put Bleu in the bathroom and got to work. It was some vile stuff. Once I got started, I figured I might as well power through the rest.
As I was throwing everything away putting cleaning products back, I got a whiff of something. It had climbed above the clean scent of lemons and beaten it into submission. Back and better than ever. Out for revenge. I knew that I should have taken him out!
As I opened the bathroom door the stench smashed me right in the face. Luckily, he had jumped into the bathtub and done his business in there. A trick he used to do all the time when he was young and being housebroken. I was thankful he still remembered it.
After rinsing and hitting the tub with some cleaner I figured I should wash both our feet. Just to be safe. Bleu’s foot bath went off without a hitch. Then it was my turn. I stepped in, fully clothed and turned on the water.
“Don’t pull the hoobajoob that turns on the shower head.” I said to myself.
“Don’t worry, I got this!” I replied as my left hand reached out to do just that.
I realized the error of my way immediately and took a step back. It wasn’t enough. Apparently close counts not only in horseshoes and handgrenades, but also standing in the shower in your clothes.