She Who Waits

Yes, you read that title correctly. This post is about poop and Christmas.

I left the house late this morning to go pick up the pug from the boarding facility he stayed at while I was at Spouse Buzz Live. It's about an hour's drive in each direction. I stopped at Starbucks to get a latte and decided I wasn't going to be a total Scrooge this year, so I stopped by Lowe's on the way home as well.

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Lowe's was a bit rough, but I managed to find a very pretty wreath and a rosemary table top tree that both smelled divine. I checked out in the garden center and as I was in line, I watched a young couple attach a Christmas tree to the top of their SUV. I was a little misty eyed, but doing okay. That is, until she produced a camera and started taking pictures of her sweetie on top of the SUV. My lip bled as I tried to keep it together in the line. That could've been us. Both of us laughing, me taking pictures as DH had to get everything perfectly secure. I momentarily entertained the thought of just leaving my cart and going to the car, but I needed the kindling I picked up, so I sucked it up and made my purchases.

I was gone for about 3 hours total. Upon arriving home, I unloaded a little of the car and went upstairs to let the puppy out of his kennel. As soon as I reached the top of the stairs I was greeted by an unmistakable odor. It got increasingly nauseating as I walked to the end of the hall. He had pooped in his crate. Then he stepped in it repeatedly, smearing it on his bedding, his kennel, and even throwing some on the carpet outside the kennel.

I had to lay down three sheets (those reserved for the dogs) to get him into the bathroom without tracking feces all over the carpets and then attempt to get him into the bathtub without wearing any. Not. Fun. I got him sprayed off and then took him outside and tied him up to wait while I wrangled the fecal matter covered kennel down the staircase. That's not a fun thing to do alone either and I'm sure there are a few more dents in the walls from it.

Two hours after I returned home, the dog has been bathed, the kennel is drying outside after a good scrubbing and soak in disinfectant, the carpets have been vacuumed of dried feces and sprayed down with disinfectant, the wreath has been hung, and now I'm actually going to try to eat lunch. It's 1600. Maybe I'll just eat dinner instead. With a glass of wine.