There are some days where you wake up knowing that you should just not leave your bed. I have done this; staying in bed all day in order to avoid the inevitable hailstorm of shit that is lurking just outside my bedroom door. Now that I have kids I find the hiding in bed all day to be a bit more difficult. They are always demanding something; "I'm hungry!" (even though I swear I just fed them yesterday) or "I'm bored!" (Let's play a game of 'sleep'! That's always fun!). So, despite the bothersome feeling that this was going to be one of those stay-in-bed kind of days I did the resposible thing and got up.
I knew for certain it was going to be bad as soon as I hit the hallway. I could just smell it. This is what I get for letting Mishka eat those damn Gerber puffs Josie threw at her. I am also not so convinced that crating is so great. Sure it contained the shit to one small area, but now she was covered in it and the crate is too big to fit through our door in one piece. Plus our front door is down a flight of stairs.
It's 7 am and I am taking half a crate of runny poo down my front stairs chanting "please don't spill, please don't spill oh God *gag* please don't spill please don't spill David if you run your train through that I am throwing it away please don't spill....."
It's 7 am and I am spraying down a half a crate full of runny poo in the rain from 5 feet away because ew! poo splatters I'm still talking to myself and my neighbors just don't even wonder anymore.
I leave the crate outside and grab some towels so that Mishka can walk into the tub without her poo feet touching the ground and without me touching her. She was outside for a grand total of 20 minutes covered in poo and yet somehow managed to get even more dirty. She is definitely one of us.
Mishka is almost 2 years old. In the nearly two years that we have had her, we have never once been able to give her a bath without some sort of drama. For the first year of her life, she howled and cried and would frantically claw at us at the mere sight of the water. She would not even enter the bathroom willingly. She would run past every bathroom in the house even if we were not standing near it. In this last year the only thing that has changed is her howling and we can occasionally coax her into the shower.
This was not one of those times.
It's 7:30 in the morning, the kid's are complaining about the smell, I'm soaking wet and I'm trying to convince a shivering shit-covered dog into the shower.
This is not a good way to start the day. A good way to start a day like this is a strong margarita and hotel service.
After throwing an old towel (which will have to be burned now thank you) over the dog I was able to push her into the tub (all the while crying 'ewewewewewewewew!'). The very second the water hits her she begins her cry-dance routine. She whimpers and then lifts each paw, left to right front, right to left rear, lather rinse repeat. Her hatred of water is so ingrained she would rather be covered in shit then get clean. After about 10 minutes, she can't take it anymore, lays her head on the edge of the tub and covers her face with her paws and starts to whine.
And can I just ask why? Why can we not have just one 'normal' pet? Why do we always seem to end up with the neurotic, wanna-be human animals? Do we make them crazy (which may actually be true given who we are) or do we just have this special gift that enables us to pick out the most bat-shit crazy animals?
Auggie- loves to sing along to his favorite songs and commercials, though lately that singing is more like barely audible huffing. He's almost 16 and has decided that at his age there are no damn rules and he will eat out of the trash can any damn time he pleases thank you very much! When he farts, he will lift his head and bark. I'm not sure if he is just surprised that he did it and is saying "Dude! Did you hear that? Awesome." Or if he's warning us that he just let one rip- which he really doesn't need to do. Even the silent ones are evident within 2 seconds. He can wilt the flowers on the hydrangea bush by our front door from inside the house.
Mishka- eats anything. Slugs, wood, linoleum, moths, dirt, stones (will not whoever eat MIL's cooking. Says something, don't you think?)
Baxter- Once pissed on my husband's lunchbox for demanding that he perform some sort of trick in order to get his cat treat.
The birds- I almost miss them. But then I hear the theme song to the Andy Griffith (Griffith? Griffin? Bueller?) show on tv from time to time and remember why we no longer have birds.
Anyway, off point again yes? Yes. Where was I?
Right, Shit-covered scaredy-dog, 7:30 am. Finally get said dog cleaned and reasonable dry. Now must burn down bathroom and towels. Or clean it. Too bad we didn't have any matches.
I foolishly believe that my day cannot get any worse as I've already been up to my eyeballs in shit.
I hear Josie wake up from her nap and she's talking to herself a bit. I leave her be for a few more minutes of peace and quiet. She starts to fuss a bit but I'm almost done with the laundry.
Then she starts screaming bloody hell.
She never screams.
I didn't even make it to her door before the smell hit me.
Karma has made me her bitch people.
There was poop on the walls, the crib, the floor, my rocker and head to toe on my baby. She had whatever Mishka had and it was just.... *shiver*. I have never bathed a baby fully dressed before today but it was necessary this time. And to make it just that much more fun she was wearing the palest yellow pant set with a WHITE sweater.
David stood at the door in wonder, "I think she had an accident..."
*Remember a few months ago? My hunt for the mystery poop? See also: How Stupid I am.....