Last week I promised the riveting story of Taj, the Mr. and diarrhea so I would suggest that if you’re eating, have just finished eating, or are planning to eat at any point in the day, don’t read this post.
Also if you are like my brother and have a foot-phobia, stop right here.
A few years ago, the Mr. and I dog-sat for our neighbor. Actually I was the dog-sitter; the Mr., not so much!!
We kept this sweet little guy for a week and when his owner came home, I cried to see him go. Thankfully, Taj’s first mom, Karen, called about an hour later and asked if we would be willing to keep him. Like…………..forever!!! See, Karen is a nurse and with her schedule, she was away from home for long hours at a time and couldn’t give Taj the one thing he craves……….ATTENTION! Boy does he love attention!!!
So we had a family discussion followed by a vote. The Mr. lost 2-1.
And so the adventure began.
The first month or two we kept Taj in the first floor bathroom during the night. He hated it! As soon as someone said “bedtime” he would start slinking away from me so I wouldn’t incarcerate him. But once locked up, the howling and tin cup on the cell bars commenced.
The Mr. LOVED it! (<—sarcasm!)
Not to mention that as soon as Taj heard movement outside (and we had lots of cars going down our street) he was UP and started sounding the alarm around 4:30 am that “morning is here; get your lazy bones outta bed and release me”!!
My biggest concern was that we had no central air so I knew it was getting stuffy in that bathroom. After a lot of discussion, I moved Taj’s bed into our bedroom and gated all three of us in. Only two problems with that plan: a. Taj would bark to be up on the bed with us, and 2. when the Mr. or I got up to go potty in the night (as old people sometimes do) we had to remember the gate or go for a tumble!
New plan: Taj started sleeping in the bed with us. Of course, it wasn’t a perfect plan but a plan none the less. There were many nights when the Mr. proclaimed that it was time for Taj to go back to Karen’s but I was already in love with the little guy so that wasn’t happening! Unless Karen was willing to take us BOTH!
Then one night it happened.
I was awakened in the night by the Mr. who said that Taj needed to go out. More specifically Taj needed to poop (sorry for saying poop but it happens). How the Mr. knew this is beyond me. So the two of them start down the stairs and I go right back to sleep.
Next thing I know, I’m hearing my name. The Mr. is yelling at the top of his lungs. Well, maybe not the top. If he HAD been at the top the thing that happened next would not have happened.
Remember, it’s the middle of the night and I’m in a sound sleep.
I go running (or walking as fast as my Pika legs would go) all the while calling out to the Mr. trying to find out what in the world is going on.
Then I figure it out.
What in the world is going on is that Taj did not make it outside.
Taj didn’t even make it to the kitchen.
No, my precious boy let ‘er fly right at the bottom of the steps.
Right on the rug.
Right where I was now standing.
There is nothing in the world quite like the warm ooze of diarrhea between your toes in the middle of the night.
Now what??? I can’t move; I’d track it everywhere. Besides which I am at this point gagging up a storm!! But I quickly tell the Mr. to bring me two Wal-mart bags. I step into the bags and can now address the mushed in poo on the rug. I get it cleaned up as best as I could at that hour and take the rug out to the sunroom. Then I spray Lysol everywhere in the hopes of getting the smell out of the house.
The Mr. goes upstairs to put a fan in the window to pull the smell out and I take my poor baby and lock him back in the bathroom. He knows that he’s in trouble, mostly cause the Mr. has not stopped fussing since the incident began, and he didn’t even say a word when I put him in the bathroom.
Then I heard it.
What was that??
I run upstairs as fast as my Wal-mart booties would let me and there is the Mr. pitching an absolute fit. Apparently when he tried to unplug the fan to move it to the window, he hit his head on the corner of the desk and put a big ole gash in his forehead. The sound I heard was not his melon head hitting the desk but his FIST hitting the desk after the initial strike!! Poor Mr. He was standing there mad as can be with blood dripping down his face in the middle of the night with his wife wearing plastic over her poopy feet.
We finally got the fan on, the Mr.’s head washed and the bleeding stopped so I felt like I should get my feet cleaned up. After cleaning, scrubbing and sanitizing my tootsies, I had to clean the tub before we could use it the next morning.
Man, what a night!! And Andrew slept through the whole ordeal.
Needless to say, that night the Mr. declared that the dog was a goner and I better find him a new home but Taj is a charmer and it wasn’t long before I heard the Mr. say that he wouldn’t take a million bucks for that little guy.
By the way, I got the rug cleaned and there was no trace of the mishap.
And we all lived happily ever after.