It all started at the unreasonable hour of 4:47 am, when Penny the Puppy (13 week old jack russell terrier whom I am dog sitting) awoke when she heard the clang clang of Bella's tags rattling on her collar when she got up to reposition. Penny decided that she was up and ready for the day and started thrashing about her crate (ah, the joys of crate training) like she was in the pit at a Nine Inch Nails concert.
While hopped up on speed.
At 4:47 am.
In the morning.
Before I had my coffee.
I walk out to her crate and find what I can only call the freshest of all the hells. I can smell the disaster before I see it. Brown, dried specks of questionable origin (shit) are splattered through the wires of the crate door (shit) and have landed all Jackson Pollack all over my hardwood floor (shit! shit! shit!).
You've heard of a black hole? Well, I found a brown hole. EVERYTHING (and I mean every last inch, centimeter, and heartbeat) was covered in Penny the Puppy's Poop. In all my years of schooling never once was I given this hypothetical. I've had to judge if a train leaves NYC at 8 am and if Bob has 12 apples, but never if the puppy you are dog sitting is covered in poo - what do you do??
*Now let's just pause here. I am absolutely certain that being covered in your own fecal matter at 13 weeks old is a very traumatic experience. She'll probably need therapy when she is a little older. I was extremely soft spoken and kind to this dog. My freak out was solely in my head. And my heart beat because it was exploding out of my chest. And my gag reflex.*
Fast Forward to 2 Hours later
Penny has been bathed. Her crate has been sanitized. Her bed is in progress in the washing machine/dryer process. The floor has been mopped. Remopped. And mopped again because THE POOP SMELL JUST WON'T LEAVE. I finally sit down on the couch to breathe. And it happens.
Why me, Lord?
Millie (a 7 yr old dwarf jack russell who I am also dog sitting) jumps off of the couch and instantly freezes, starts convulsing (CONVULSING!!!!), panting, and her legs give out from under her.
Seriously?
And just to give some background: Millie has had back problems in the past, and had to basically be put on doggy bed rest for her spine to heal.
I immediately try to call the owner of the dog. No answer. Since I was never given the name of the hotel they were staying at, I keep hanging up and recalling - much like how a 13 year old would call those boys from One Direction (I'm cool. I'm hip. I know what's in.) After 45 attempts, I call the vet. And to the vet we go. But not before I call my Grandma while trying to get dressed and in the car to have a mini freak out.
*Ding*
Round One of Tears
Vet says - She's going to live, here are some pain killers, and another round of doggy bed rest. That'll be 60 dollars, please.
So, with Egg McMuffin in tow (because smoothies? Fuck smoothies today. I'm not in the mood.), we return home. When I go to leave Penny the Pooper outside, Bella decides that she wants to go too
(even though she knows that Penny can't have any distractions in order to have successful bladder evacuation). Bella full on makes a break for it. Running through the yard, past the side walk, and stops at the fire hydrant (how cliche).
*Ding*
Round 2 of Tears
I try treats, whistling, shouting, "ok get in the house" (a phrase she knows and normally obeys while on her stretchy leash) to no avail. Panic is now creeping up and visions of Lost posters or seeing her get hit by a car are now dancing in my head. I run into the house, grab my keys and start jaunting towards my car to go after her if need be. What does Bella do? Thinks she is going for a ride and runs towards the car begging to be let in to take her place in Shotgun position.
*Ding*
Round 3 of Tears
And it's not even 11 am yet.
A little later, I catch something out of the corner of my eye at my front door.
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| Wind + Halloween Decorations = ARGH. |
I died.
I am now typing this as a ghost. Boo, mother fuckers.
Boo!
Forever Yours,
The Unemployed Diva.
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