Funny how a series of events, seemingly unrelated can come together to cause mayhem and pandemonium. Like, when a group of butterflies on the coast of Africa flap their wings thus setting off a hurricane that will make its way across the Atlantic and devastate a whole city. Yeah, stuff like that.
Thursday I came home from my volunteer job to discover I had forgotten to close the bathroom door before I left that morning. In most households that's no big deal, but here in the OBB we have two garbage hungry dogs who will take every opportunity they can to sniff around and sort through things that they shouldn't. Like bathroom garbage cans.
In my rush to get to a meeting with our local DJs who are helping us promote our event I failed to shut said bathroom door and believe me when I tell you, I paid the price for it that night. I came home to a living full of shredded paper products...used tissues, q-tips, the like, strewn throughout the lower level of the house.
Now who's to blame here? The one who gave birth to me says there are no bad dogs, just bad owners...so I guess it serves me right that after a very full day of fundraising I should have to come home to clean up this mess.
Oh, but wait. It gets better.
Friday morning begins as it normally does. Me letting the dogs out before filling their bowls with dog food. Them sitting, staring at me, boring holes into my back as they wait with much anticipation for me to fill their bowls with the left-over milk from my Bran Flakes. As I said, all very much the way things happen here almost every morning.
As I was scanning the on-line edition of our daily newspaper, reading the late breaking news about a 16.04 oz baby born FIFTY years ago today - you can read about it here: http://kimberlycameron.blogspot.com/2009_06_12_archive.html
I hear the unmistakable sounds of our little dog retching her guts up. There's really nothing as appetizing as the sound of a dog making themselves sick to eat your Bran Flakes by, but I digress. After several minutes (really, I'm sure it was seconds, but it seemed like FOREVER) The Gidge deposited a big gift of dog-vomit on the floor at my feet. Now she had room for that bowl of milk she was anticipating.
Another isolated incident. Or so it seemed at the time.
Last night, as the one whom I adore and I were lounging about watching a very scary movie ("Taken," with Liam Neeson) Snickers got up off his dog bed, quietly walked into the kitchen where he hurled up a pile of dog barf the size I hadn't seen in quite some time. His entire dinner plus whatever snacks he had been given by you know who while I was out. The good news is, he had the presence of mind not to be sick all over our antique hardwood floors in the living room, but had the good graces to go to the kitchen which has ceramic tile and is much easier to clean up!
A stand alone incident? Maybe...but I'm beginning to get suspicious.
Now it's Saturday morning and as I am wont to do, I lounged about bed dozing in and out of sleep past my usual 6am walk-up. As I was rousing myself from a very disturbing dream (where I was searching for my now deceased Uncle Dick's wet suit because he had misplaced it) I could hear the sound of the upstairs toilet being plunged. This usually can only mean one thing and that's that the one whom I adore had too much fiber and thus, ahem, caused some blockage.
Such was not the case today. Seems somebody (probably Snicks) up-chucked in the night in our upstairs hallway. It's now a pandemic, I tell you! He who was up first saw the deposit and had the foresight to realize the longer it sits there, the worse the stain will be, so best get it cleaned up now.
So he does. He gets it all cleaned up - chunky mess that it is and flushes it down the toilet. Except. Yes, that's right. It doesn't go down. And why, you might ask, would dog vomit not go down the toilet?
The answer really is quite simple.
Because the dog vomit was not just stomach fluids. Oh no. The dog vomit was laced with previously used feminine hygiene products that had been fished out of the downstairs bathroom garbage TWO DAYS AGO. How is that for nasty? Note to self and anyone else - never let our dogs kiss you - they are disgusting animals.
And now, the dots are all connecting. I failed to close the bathroom door. Dogs scavenged the garbage, ate the nasty contents there-of. Dogs have sporadic episodes of upset stomach for two days until the big dog finally (hopefully) passes the last of the nasties. It's all connected.
Aren't you glad you read this post all the way to the end?
