Joy of Dogs (part two)

You haven’t lived until you’ve waded through a stinking lake of basset hound piss in the middle of the night. I lived through it once. Now the memory motivates me to bound out of bed before the first whimper clears the big dog’s throat.

Last night close to three nature called my 80 pound, eight year old basset. I was sort of pissed because I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and that leaves me short tempered. Still, I pulled myself from the trap and lumbered down the hall to let her out. Naturally she fooled around out there for the better part of half an hour. I’d just dozed off on the sofa in the dog room when her huge bark brought me back.

So I let her in and returned to bed. Before I could even pull the covers up, she started whimpering again. It was starting to thunder, and she and Number Two, a mongrel terrier type, are both terrified of bad weather compliments of Hurricane Frederick. So I stormed down the hall and popped her big ole ass with the sports page. The terrier took cover, but the basset didn’t flinch. I threatened to kill her, she stared me down, then I headed back to bed.

Before I could even get my door shut good she was rumbling down the hall. I know when I’m beat, so I opened my door and let her in. I climbed back in bed and on cue, the terrier started screaming. I called him, but he wouldn’t come. He was still fretting about my spanking his sister. So I got back up, went down the hall, picked him up and set him right back down. That reset him and he bolted for the safety of my room.

A few minutes later, as the storm abated, the dogs settled down. A few hours later, now, I feel like I’ve been up partying for a couple of days. Help.

Joy of Dogs (part one)

We have a house and yard full of dogs. Number Three came in August, a rescue like numbers One and Two. Now I know that three is one too many for me. I also now know that it’s way too late for me to do anything about it.

Crap collects at quite a clip when there are three dogs contributing to the collection. For some reason my dogs like dumping right off the patio. That way, when I’m sitting on the sun deck, the stench is overpowering. So I police the yard for poop several times a week. I transfer the turds to the very back of the yard in hopes the dogs will take the hint and start shitting back there. The project has been going on for about a month. So far, though, they aren’t going for it.

Anyway, I did the poop patrol a few days ago. Then, a few minutes later as I sat in my chair trying to enjoy a Sudoku and some DirecTV, I kept smelling dog shit. Instinctively I checked my slippers, even though I wear a special pair of dog shit shoes when on poop patrol. Next I suspected one of the beasts was farting. I ruled that out pretty quick. I can differentiate between dog shit and dog gas. After about 30 minutes the stink was really irritating me. Then, on the back of one of the legs of my jeans, I found the culprit. I still don’t know how it got there, but there was dog shit all over my pants!

To make a long story shorter, that was several days ago, and I’m still smelling dog shit when I sit in my chair, and I really like sitting in my chair! I’ve been over it with a fine tooth comb. I’ve moved it to see if there was fecal matter beneath. I’ve sniffed the damn thing from top to bottom. Nothing. Then, just when I’ve put the whole terrible episode behind me, the shit smell looms into my nostrils yet again. Shit!