Questionably Fabulous

I made a big mess of things this past weekend and haven’t been able to bring myself to tell you all until now.  Mostly I’ve accepted the debacle I created for myself because I know my mom has told almost everyone the excruciating tale.

Let me preface this by saying that I have not once in the past pooped in the house or had an accident in my cage.  I have tinkled here and there throughout the house out of fear, surprise, lack of attention etc.  But no mistakes on the #2 side of the fence. 

That being said, this past Saturday I was put in my cage for less than an hour, 45 minutes max really.  And having just eaten a brand new food for dinner the night before and breakfast that morning, my tummy wasn’t exactly calm. 

Mom came home to find not one, not two but three piles of poo in my cage.  And what was worse is that I simply didn’t know what to do with it – it just kept coming!  I tried to make it neat and tidy but to no avail.  It was all over my legs and belly before I knew it and when I heard mom come home all I could think was SALVATION!  In my excitement I jumped around spreading more of the poo everywhere and getting clumps wedged between my paw pads.  Messy stuff. 

Mom gagged upon seeing (and smelling me) and I agreed.  “LET ME OUTTA HERE!” was what I was barking at her.  She opened my cage and the poo bits between my paws were released on the white tile floor.    Flipping me upside down mom carried me downstairs carefully holding her break and trying not to get my feces on her shirt.  She plumked me on the front steps and I shook off the excess – which I thought was wise of me, waiting until being outside, but she didn’t look happy at all.  I saw the offense, tiny pieces of doggy-doo all over the front slate steps. 

Frantically running to the side of the house mom found that there was no hose…  What to do?  What to do?  What to do?  Her nervousness was carrying over to me and I began to pace back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, only further spreading the mess on the side walk and walkway. 

Next thing I know I’m being flung into the shower and the water turns on, sweet salvation I thought.  But mom disappeared.  An hour later (she was cleaning up my cage) she reappeared and I thought I was good and clean but she gasped in horror.  Poopy footprints all over the white tiled shower – and since the water was cold at first I’d jumped up onto the walls too so they were high up (I’m a Jack and can jump nearly 6 feet). 

I got a good scrubbing and smelled DE-LISH and was toweled off and put on the porch overlooking the street.  I got to bask in the sun while drying off and mom went to work with bleach in the shower.  As I was completing my air drying session and supervising the action down below I spotted mom on her hands and knees, bucket and bleach in tow, working on the front steps.  I heard her muttering under her breath “that f&@king dog, that IS IT!  And where is Bryan?  Surfing, mother f&@ker, I cannot believe I am doing all of this alone.  And where is the f&@king hose?  No where…”

I have no concept of time but I was more and more aware of how long this was taking and have to say, I’ve never gotten more attention than the time I was sneezing blood all over the white carpet!