WARNING: This story is about a doggy bathroom accident, so do not read if you don’t like that topic. It’s really not graphic at all, I just put a little warning in case anyone is the slightest bit squeamish. My sister planned a trip to Portland for this weekend and asked if I could watch her two dogs, Lola (a hearty, rowdy, lovable beagle), and Rocco (a pampered, indoor-only Shitzu).
“Please no, ” I answered. “It’s heavy art season for us, we have a lot of work to finish. and our five Chihuahuas will freak out the entire time if we have two guest dogs. Patrick will get stressed out too, sorry.”
Theresa said fine and that she would take Lola and Rocco to a kennel. She lives with my mom, and my mom is not used to caring for the dogs by herself, we didn’t want her to have to worry about them.
Fast forward to the night before the trip. Theresa’s plans for the kennel changed and she asked if I could pop in to her house in the mornings and at night to let the dogs out, feed them, etc.
“No problem, I can handle that,” I said.
The first day, swell, everything went super smooth.
The next morning presented a different set of circumstances. As soon as I walked in the house, I smelled it. You know what I’m talking about.
I’m a wimp, I gag three times just thinking about the stuff. Luckily my mom was still asleep and didn’t know what had happened, she is weak at that subject too.
I braced myself and entered the room where Lola slept and sure enough…Ew, there it was! All over the place in all different varieties. I held my breath, let her out of the room, and shut the door behind us, and fell against the wall, clenched my heart, and panted for clean air.
I let both dogs out to the backyard and then I sat in a chair to cry or think. I had to be signed on for work in 19 minutes, and I just did NOT have time (or stomach) to clean the mess. I made an executive decision to bring Lola home with me and return on my lunch hour with my teen son, DeAngelo, to clean the mess. Yah, perfect idea!
The challenge – my brother and his wife were supposed to come over to visit my mom that day. So I knew I HAD TO BE BACK BEFORE they arrived. I knew my mom would be horrified if they saw and smelled Lola’s mess.
I let the dogs back inside my mom’s house whee they had been outside frollicking, and grabbed the collar. Rocco, who is used to going “bye-bye” more often than Lola, acknowledged my action, trotted up to my hands and stuck his neck out towards the collar as if to say, “Dress me up, girlfriend, but not too tight okay?”
I hurriedly pushed him aside and reached for Lola instead. He needed to stay, Lola is who I wanted to take home with me.
Rocco went nuts, he was so offended! He barked and bit at Lola’s legs to stop her from getting close to me. Then he tried to use his teeth to pull my hands away from putting the collar on Lola. I managed to strap Lola up and we stood to leave.
Rocco knew the plan, and bolted for the front door and stuck his nose against the crevice between the door and the wall. He wouldn’t budge. Remember, I’m in a hurry to get home.
I whisper-cussed and scooped him up in my arms, ran down the hallway to the back of the house like a chubby wannabe ninja. I put him in my mom’s bedroom and left the door only slightly ajar. I turned and hustled back to the front door…only to find Rocco there, staring at the crevice again. That darn dog beat me in the race down the hallway! It was like he blinked and transported himself!
Frustration. This time, holding Lola in one hand and her bag of food in the other, I lifted Rocco using the nook between my foot and leg and *gently* tossed projected him forward, across the tile, to the other side of the entry way. He looked super cute, like he was ice skating – anyway, I slipped out with Lola and went home.
I entered my home, see Patrick look at Lola and then at me, and he raised one discerning eyebrow.
“Please?” I begged. “She made a mess and I don’t want my mom to deal with her.”
The time came for me to go back to my mom’s to clean up the mess and I learned our car battery died. Kaput. Patrick was stranded on the other side of town when it happened. I wasn’t able to make it to my mom’s. I procrastinated. Hours passed until I called.
“Um, by any chance, has Davy got there yet?” I asked, hoping for a “No.”
“Yes,” she said. “They came and Rocco had pooped all over the house. Your brother stepped in it. They had to clean it all up.”
Needless to say, my mom was not happy, she was majorly embarrassed. And it looked bad on me, because I walked away from the Lola’s caca catastrophe that morning, but I had good reason, right? I felt so bad, even though Mom told me it wasn’t my fault. I told her I’d be over super early the next morning to let Rocco out.
I couldn’t sleep all night, wondering if Rocco did it again and what if my mom stepped in it if she got up in the middle of the night for a glass of water. The next morning, I called my mom to let her know I was waiting for Autozone to open so Patrick could get the new battery and I could go over. I asked how Rocco was, and she told me that my cousin came over after we talked the night before, and they decided to let Rocco sleep outside.
Now is Part Two of this adventure.
I gulped. It was 100 degrees out there! Well, 100 degrees by day. Night – probably 80, but I didn’t realize that then. All I knew was that Rocco was used to being indoors almost 24/7. So I panicked! I imagined the poor little dude passed out under the family palm tree, his tongue hanging out, big red X’s over his eyes.
Rocco is not happy.
“I have to get to my mom’s house to rescue Rocco,” I cried out to Patrick. “Can you put air in the tires on Maya’s bike? I’ll ride it over there!”
“Mujer,” he said. “When was the last time you rode a bike?”
“8th grade. But I was really good. Look, I still have the scar on my arm from when I wiped out on my brother’s motorcross. I can do this, I know I can!”
“I hate to say this,” my dear husband said, “but you sound like Shelly Winters in The Poseidon Adventure. And remember what happened to her?”
I convinced him to pump air into the tires, even though he said they were old, and I planned to hop on to give it a whirl. Mind you, I was so anxious, I didn’t even take it to the carport, this all took place in our back patio among tables of freshly glazed canvases. Secretly I was hoping he would offer to ride the bike over there for me, but he has learned from past experiences to stay away, very far away.
I plopped my big booty on the tiny seat, it squeaked and dropped down. The air hissed out of the back tire from my weight. I realized I had never used a bike that had handbrakes (last time I rode was in 8th grade!) and don’t know how to stop. I fall over and just about lose my womanhood from the stupid bike seat.
“Bike fail. I’m going to walk,” I said.
“Good idea,” he replied. “Seriously, can’t you wait just one hour until I get the battery, or better yet, why don’t you just call your mom and ask her to let Rocco in? You are making this unnecessarily hard on yourself.”
“I don’t want my mom to get out of bed! What if Rocco is dead? I don’t want her to see that.”
I left, and Maya came along. Two miles later, we arrived to my mom’s house. We called out for Rocco in the backyard, but didn’t hear anything. My heart sank into my stomach.
I stood tall and walked into my mom’s room. There she was propped up in bed, with Rocco cuddled up next to her. They both lifted their heads and smile when they saw me.
“Oh, I let him in, I was worried it would be too hot for him,” my mom said.
I ended up taking Rocco home with me, because he had that “I’m gonna poo again” look in his eye. I’m glad I did because later my cousin Stephanie told me when she went to visit my mom after my brother left, she found new poo. We agreed to call it Poo Friday.
You should hear HER side of the story, it’s pretty juicy too.
I can only imagine that Rocco’s line of thinking went something like this: “Well. Lola pooped and got to go bye-bye, so I think I’ll poop. Hmmm, maybe that was the wrong room, okay, I’ll try this room, or that room too.” sure enough, Rocco got his way.
I walked in our house to find not only Patrick, but my mother-in-law, sitting in the family room. I enter with Rocco in my arms and neither has a surprised look on their face.
I looked at Patrick, tilted my head, and said, “Please?”
Silver lining: Everyone is calm and at peace, now that my mom doesn’t have to worry about the dogs. I got exercise from walking. I’m motivated to buy a new bike and learn to ride it properly – even use the handbrakes. Our car has a new battery and works like a charm again. Now that the drama is over with, we have all shared our Poo Friday stories and laughed about them. At the moment I have seven dogs in our house. They’re all getting along, sort of. I totally want to see The Poseidon Adventure asap, it is one of my all-time favorite movies!Love & light,