It was eleven o'clock last night and a dog funk stench loomed in the bedroom. Instantly, I got up to check on Chloe. This puppy is full of surprises and to my deceiving eyes, Chloe had purged an array of her fetor in the corner of the room. At what end the excretion of this matter originated was besides the point, because I had to clear up this vile immediately. Earlier this morning, she went through a similar vomiting session, but I was convinced she had meddled through our compost and that it would pass. I quickly cleaned up the mess, yet Chloe continued to meekly shiver in the corner of the bedroom. Was she on the verge of death? Rabies perhaps? A piece of chewing bone, is it lodged in her intestines? Cursed, was it the organic raw lamb and rice diet? Of course, it had to be! I mean puppy and raw meat just don't mix. I don't care how organic or healthy! The logic still stands as idiotic as puppy at a flea convention! Why didn't I just feed her a bowl of larvae for flip sake! Great, I just contributed to the illness of my pup, because of my narrow minded health conscious ways. A swarm of conflict stung me with questions.
As I blamed myself for the dog's illness, Shane slept comfortable and sound. I understand as he worked a laborious ten hour day, but I couldn't ignore Chloe's uncontrollable bowel and projectile display. I was concerned with worry. As I witnessed the dog's terrible mishap I tried to shake my husband from sleep, but he was useless. Meanwhile, in half an hour flat, I had replaced two puppy potty sheets, disinfected the floor from four freshies that didn't smell so fresh. I tried to get Shane's attention, "What should we do?" I shook Shane's shoulders, if he was a tree the branches would be completely bare. I was slightly disappointed with his sloth like behavior, moreover, it frightened me.
Eeek! It was a quick flash into the future and what it had in store for us naive newbies: a wailing infant, a pooping dog, and an incessant golf addict of a husband that sleeps like a wet log. Although a puppy and an infant are, by far, incomparable. It doesn't change the direction of the wind in that when it comes to slumber, my husband will be frolicking in the fields of dreamland. Next year, upon arrival of the new born, I should not be surprised. Last night was just a whiff of my future lifestyle with a new Kitchen utensil; a prelude to parenthood.
Lesson: A wise Grasshopper never play with matches in dry field.
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Just a thought, if the dog is sick, you should not be cleaning up voimit or other messes. Has the puppy had it's shots? How long has the puppy been doing this? Since your preggers, make the hubby clean that stuff up. You can't afford to get sick. Just my two cents. :)
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