This morning I woke up planning to blog about something entirely different. I even took pictures! But then my schedule went completely astray.
As I come up the stairs this morning I smell poop. Dog poop. I know it’s not my dog because he’s been downstairs with me all night with the doors closed. Also, he doesn’t poop in the house.
Toby, my parents dog, has laid a monster in the living room. It would have been too easy for him to stop there. I can see that he has put his dirty butt on the floor and scooted himself in a circle. Leaving a disgusting trail behind him.
Then, he walked three feet to the left AND DID IT AGAIN. Eight hours later it’s now dry poop in a big circle on the living room floor. Which means I now I have to scrape dry smelly poop off of the floor.
The only thing I’ll give this dog credit for is that he managed to not poop on my mom’s brand new oriental carpet. An inch to the left and we would have had a different story.
I know this dog went to the bathroom before bed last night. I let him out myself.
As I’m cleaning up this disgusting mess that smells beyond belief I’m thinking my mom certainly got lucky with this one. She has chosen this week to be at her sister’s house. And here I am thinking all I have to do while she is away is make coffee and lunch for my dad and husband, water all of her thousand gardens and take out the trash and recycling. If only.