There are times when you think that getting a dog was the best thing you could have done. On one hand, it's a big responsibility, but on the other hand, you're forced to take a lunch break every day. You're home more, you relax more, you like having the little guy follow you around everywhere, depending on you for food and attention. It's nice to be needed.
But then you get the days that you come home after a long day at work and as you enter the back landing and open the door to the kitchen the smell of fresh shit wafts through the opening. As the dogs rush down the stairs, a quick peek gives you the view of a flattened shit-pancake waiting for you at the top. You deduct that Charlie(your roommate's bigger dog) must have stepped in it but then, as you watch the dogs run around outside, you realize Rider(your smaller dog)has an ass that is a bit browner then it usually is. You briefly wonder if sitting in your own crap might not be something that would be a bit uncomfortable, but then you push that from your mind.
You're now scared to go back inside. But you do. You open the kitchen door all the way to reveal copious amounts of shreds of pee-soaked newspaper covering the floor. Artistically dotted around the newspaper shreds are little poop paw prints and delicate smears. In the back of your mind you note that your friend is set to arrive in less than 30 minutes and you haven't even eaten supper but you're frozen to the spot not knowing what to do first. Do you get the poop off the dog or the floor?
You choose the dog and, because you're not too thrilled with the dog at the moment, instead of being gentle and soothing like you usually are when you give him a bath, you just turn on the tap and shove him under. He doesn't like you very much after that. He actually tries to bite you later on that night but that's neither here nor there.
You then fence off the kitchen to prevent a little wet dog running around like a spaz from running around like a spaz through all the poop he so creatively spread around the kitchen. You vacuum the kitchen, wash the kitchen floor, and while you're at it, vacuum all the dog hair off the living room floor as well, all the while trying to explain to a wet spazzy dog that this is not a game and STOP BITING THE CORD FOR CRYING OUT LOUD DO YOU WANT TO ELECTROCUTE YOURSELF?
And then it's all over. And your friend comes over. And you eventually eat supper. And while your friend is booking your flights to New York you are standing outside in your blue fuzzy slippers for half an hour waiting patiently for your dog to pee outside so you can give him a treat. But he never does. He does however trot inside and immediately pee on the newspaper.
At least your floor is clean.
P.S. My MRI is booked for March 7th with results back on the 20th for anyone who's interested. Should I be worried it's so soon? I don't know. Doesn't matter, I am anyways.