Blogging about life in Minnesota, raising our six kids with Down syndrome while battling Breast Cancer.

Be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the floor in the morning the devil says, "Oh shit! She's up!"

Monday, April 07, 2008

I love my dogs, I love my dogs, I love my dogs

Warning: do not read this post if you are easily grossed out.

UGH!!! Cleaning up the mess I found this morning was worse than ANY breeding/puppy related mess I've ever encountered.

4:30 a.m. Dean is up getting ready for work somewhere in the house. Zurri is on the bed on my feet. No Dudley around. Rubee sleeps in her crate in the basement family room. Roman is in the crate next to the bed whining to go outside. Hmmmm Dean usually lets him out when he gets up.

I get up to let Roman out, slightly irritated that Dean didn't and my beauty sleep is being interrupted. We all know how much my beauty needs improving. Roman and I make our way down the hallway, but instead of running to the door to ring the bell, Roman runs 1/2 way down the stairs and stops with his nose in the air. Dudley comes from somewhere and joins him. It's just about that time *that smell* reaches my nose.

I hear Dean open Rubee's crate as he hollers "Oh shit!", while at the same time Rubee comes racing up the stairs. I open the door to let her out and get splashed by liquid as she runs by. That's when I realize that Rubee was covered in liquid CARP from head to toe. Poor girl, trapped in her kennel in that mess.

Dean comes up the stairs, "I didn't know what the problem was till I opened the kennel. The entire inside of the kennel is covered. Rubee is "his" dog, which means "he" is responsible for cleaning up "his dog's" messes. (the other 3 he considers to be "mine" even though they're really "ours"!) "I don't have time to clean it up right now, I'm late getting out the door."

Aaahhh...lucky him! He'll also be out of town till tomorrow, so I have no choice but to tackle the mess myself. I head downstairs to estimate the damages when I realize Rubee has just tracked and dripped the mess all the way through the basement and up the carpeted stairs to the door.


I drag her kennel out to the 3 season porch, and set up a spare wire kennel that we have. He calls her into the porch and the poor dripping wet poop covered dog is going to have to stay out there where it's pretty chilly until I get Angela off to 4 hours.

Dean leaves for work, and I got back to bed to have nightmares about the task ahead of me. That's when I realize I have a problem. It's too cold to bathe Rubee outside, so I'll need to do her in the tub. But Rubee is 80 lbs heavy and HELLO! I have a broken arm!

Once Angela was gone I started getting set up for the big poop removal. I let Rubee out the basement door and call her back in the front door to avoid having her walk through the entire house again. She is scared to death of the hardwood floors so I have to d-r-a-g her liquid poop covered feet down the hallway and through the bathroom. I had planned on using my good arm to lift first her front end, then the back end into the tub. Poor girl, she felt so miserable covered in carp that she jumped right into the tub herself. (this is a first!) I thank her a gazillion times over for this and hope that she gets out the same way.

With one arm not functioning very well (thankfully I don't have a cast, but instead a removable brace) I get her scrubbed down twice. There is poop everywhere inside the tub and dripping down the outsides. It is all over my chest, my legs, my arms. There are water droplets splashing me in the face but I pretend to not notice. After all, if I don't do this, who will?

When she's done I get her outside before she can shake off in the house. (never know how much microscopic poop is really left on her!) and then turn to face the next job. The cleanup of the poopy tracks through the house, the poop-painted kennel, and the bathroom that is now quite contaminated.

I discover another problem along the way though. And that is that I can't wring out the mop with one hand! Good grief!!! So I mop the floors with a dripping mop, then go back and wipe up the standing water with a towel.

I called Dean and told him, "Don't ever, ever, complain again about cleaning up a little pile of puke or a puddle of dog diarrhea!"

I have one hour till Angela comes home, and I'm going to spend it sterilizing myself in a hot shower!


Kathie Brinkman said...

Okay. You have completely, totally, absolutely, grossed me out. And to think I was just going to ask you if Rubee could come for an overnight visit. Poor girl and poor you. Do you think the other dogs will get her tummy troubles?

Christina said...

O M G...I will sign off now and go puke! ICK

JennyH said...

Poor you!!