My Day
Stayed up late last night finishing up work. I walked the dog and he didn't poop. I took him out again, knowing that he hadn't pooped. He didn't. Went to bed.
We got up late, said our happy birthday's to A. Went to preschool. Full shift at preschool. Got home at 12.30, let the dog out to feed him and walk him. As I am filling his bowl, I notice that the gate on the stairs is down and I don't see the dog or the boy. I hear a yell and the boy comes running down the stairs saying" the dog is peeing in the beedroom by Mama's side. Indeed.
He did the deed, as well as pooping. Pooped so much that...well...forget it. The kicker was that he pissed on three books: one library book and two new large picture books on remodeling that A. bought.
It took me about ten minutes to clean up the mess. Thank Suess that whatever treatment the carpet received caused the dog's joyful dribbling to remain beaded up on the carpet.
I am walking around the kitchen trying to find a plastic bag to take the dog on a walk. I finally find one. A small one. In hindsight, this should have been a sign.
We don't even get around the corner and the dog stops to poop. Retrieving the bag from my back pocket, I discover that there is an enormous hole in the bag. I carefully pick up the little treasures. I gingerly wrap the legal tender in plastic until I am pulled by Milo down the block.
No more than 45 seconds the dog squats. "What?" I say. "Again? Papa, he is going again!" E. says. I bend over breathing carefully from the mouth, fully dismayed that the bag slips and the ill-gotten booty touches me. When the third pooping happens around the corner...let's just say that I am happy that autumn leaves have fallen.
So, later we are driving in the afternoon to pick up A. from work. E, who has been particularly whiney in the last few days, said in a non-whiney voice:
"Papa, where are we going?"
"To pick up mama."
"Well old Elliott can't help you with that. Mama is your problem."
After dinner this evening we come home to find the babysitters grandma and grandpa in the living room looking at the two remodeling books that were pissed on by the dog.
We got up late, said our happy birthday's to A. Went to preschool. Full shift at preschool. Got home at 12.30, let the dog out to feed him and walk him. As I am filling his bowl, I notice that the gate on the stairs is down and I don't see the dog or the boy. I hear a yell and the boy comes running down the stairs saying" the dog is peeing in the beedroom by Mama's side. Indeed.
He did the deed, as well as pooping. Pooped so much that...well...forget it. The kicker was that he pissed on three books: one library book and two new large picture books on remodeling that A. bought.
It took me about ten minutes to clean up the mess. Thank Suess that whatever treatment the carpet received caused the dog's joyful dribbling to remain beaded up on the carpet.
I am walking around the kitchen trying to find a plastic bag to take the dog on a walk. I finally find one. A small one. In hindsight, this should have been a sign.
We don't even get around the corner and the dog stops to poop. Retrieving the bag from my back pocket, I discover that there is an enormous hole in the bag. I carefully pick up the little treasures. I gingerly wrap the legal tender in plastic until I am pulled by Milo down the block.
No more than 45 seconds the dog squats. "What?" I say. "Again? Papa, he is going again!" E. says. I bend over breathing carefully from the mouth, fully dismayed that the bag slips and the ill-gotten booty touches me. When the third pooping happens around the corner...let's just say that I am happy that autumn leaves have fallen.
So, later we are driving in the afternoon to pick up A. from work. E, who has been particularly whiney in the last few days, said in a non-whiney voice:
"Papa, where are we going?"
"To pick up mama."
"Well old Elliott can't help you with that. Mama is your problem."
After dinner this evening we come home to find the babysitters grandma and grandpa in the living room looking at the two remodeling books that were pissed on by the dog.
posted by Mr. Boyer at Wednesday, November 17, 2004
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