One of my favorite and most humiliating blog posts is from four years ago, to the day. I couldn’t resist reviving it, even if it makes me gag.
The Deuce is Loose – March 18, 2009
Our current living situation is the only place that our dog, Auron, has ever lived without a yard and doggie door. Because he’s always been let outside to go to the bathroom on a lawn, he was largely befuddled when the only thing we had to offer him was a cement patio. He refuses to go to the bathroom on walks, and instead, will only go on our back patio.
For the 10 months we’ve lived in the condo, we’ve just let him do this and picked up his ‘gifts’ on a weekly basis. It figures that we made it up to the last three weeks of living here for a neighbor to complain about pet waste, and force us into daily poop pick ups. Love those HOA’s.
This was all complicated further by adding another dog to the mix. Sure, it sounds crazy to get another dog when we have such limited space, but to me it was a strategic decision: Potty train puppy prior to living with brand new flooring. (Any excuse to get a puppy is a good excuse to get a puppy).
When we adopted Bruno, he had a stomach bug that he promptly passed on to Auron. For several days last week, both dogs were having terrible stomach problems. If you’ve ever thought about how disgusting it would be to have a dog with diarrhea, imagine having two dogs with diarrhea. On your patio. Nothing pretty about it.
Last Friday morning I was ready to walk out the door to work when I realized that we had forgotten to pick up the dog poo outside. I set down my things to grab (what I used to think of as) the best tool known to man: the ‘Jaws’ poop scooper.
I was hastily picking up the crap, literally, and then grabbed the hose to wash off the cement. I held the scooper on one hand and the hose in the other. I even went as far as to screw on the high pressure nozzle on the hose to make certain that no passing nosy neighbor would see any evidence of pet waste.
My fatal flaw was not paying close enough attention to where I directed the stream of the hose. It only took a split second to have it accidently spray into the scoop, flinging wet fecal matter all over me. I wish my reaction had been video taped because it had to have been epic. I had dog diarrhea in my hair and eyes, all over my arms and clothing. I dropped the hose and fought off my gag reflex while making my way directly into the shower.
I can’t describe to you the foul smell that I am convinced is still on me, days later. I don’t know if I can ever wear that shirt again. Hell. I don’t know if I will ever use a hose again. I’m scarred. Who gets dog diarrhea in their eye?! Unacceptable. I judge myself.
After the initial shock wore off, the whole experience became hysterical to recount to all who would listen. Unfortunately, dramatic reenactments will not be performed due to the graphic nature of the incident.