Thursday, February 19, 2009

Bad Dog

The husband offered to take his sister's garbage to the dump, and loaded it in the back of his pickup to take it in the morning. Trust me, this is relevant later.

So I was all ready to work on my new writing website, and hopefully reveal it by tonight. (Here ends all relevance to a writing post. Sorry. Posts on writing will resume tomorrow.)

I was typing away at the website, clickety-clackety, and the husband lets the dog in.

"EW!" I screech. "What is that smell?"

We assume Dog has met a new friend, probably Mr. Dead Skunk or one of his associates. So, despite the pile of work to do, I drop my laptop (not literally) and race off to the shower to do an emergency cleansing of the dog.

Dude. It was foul. Odors emanating from that dog should not ever emanate from anything, ever. EVAR. Things that have died in sewers smelled better. This is how horrid it was: the dog jumped up on the bed before we had a chance to throw him in the shower. By merely standing in the presence of the sheets and blankets, we had to rip them all off the bed and throw them in the wash with baking soda and prayers to Jesus. That's how bad it was.

I scrubbed Dog three times. I used the entire bottle of doggie shampoo. I wished I had another bottle.

"That dog is evil," the husband says. "Satan is that dog."

"No, no. Rolling around with dead animals is just what dogs do," I say, my arms covered in dog fur and lather.

Afterwards, the husband takes the dog out on a leash to ensure all business is done before we go to bed.

And that's when we discover it.

Dog sniffed the husband's sister's garbage in the back of the pick up. Apparently diapers and rotten eggs are pleasing to the dog. So pleasing that the dog finds it necessary to leap into the back of the pickup, rip open the garbage bags, and distribute the goodies he finds within across the entire front yard, not unlike a very, very generous Santa in a Christmas Parade throws candy to children.

So no writing posts today. I must recover from the fact that my lawn appears to have thrown up baby poo, rotten eggs, and fluttering bits of plastic garbage bags.

I'm off to take another shower.
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