Got up at six, a little later than usual. Immediately discovered that Nigel had pooped in the one corner he never poops in and which is pretty unprotected (We have erected plastic shields inside the expen walls to keep poop from being crunched up into the bars and onto the wall behind.) so I found myself at 6:15, tearing the whole pen apart again during which time I, of course, got dog shit on my fingers....sigh....
Then I re-did the pen, and while I was doing that, Nigel took a shit which I stopped to clean up. No biggie, that one. Back to the pen: hounds went outside and began instantly screaming. Got them in, worked on pen. Conley wanted to help by standing in the middle and supervising so I could neither move the cloth I had put down or put down the dog beds. Chased him out. Nigel off bed and scooting for the water dishes.
Ok. Finished pen, shook dog poop crumbs out of bedding (Outside) and put it in the dog laundry basket. Put Nigel back on bed.
Just then John came out with treats. I had been trying to re-write the letter to our former snarky landlord in a better format. John tried to help but couldn't figure it out, either. He left. I started over trying to figure it out. Nigel got off bed and headed for the kitchen. I smell dog poop. (What is this, superppoop day????) I look and cannot find anything.
I go to get Nigel. He is squirting all over the kitchen and dining room as he drags. I am trying to get a towel around him but he is a moving target, he doesn't really wanna go back on the bed and is amazingly adept at avoiding the towel. I finally snare him and march him back to the bed where I discover he must have pooped getting off the bed and starting for the door. I drop the towel and he immediately heads for the kitchen, squirting as he goes. I clean up the dog poop that is under the bed where it had rolled or been kicked, and along the edge of my rug.
Then I recapture Nigel, clean up the squirts and deposit him on the bed with instructions to the effect that, if he moves off the bed again he will never leave his pen again as long as he lives. This time, I really mean it.
Well, my day started out in a similar fashion. BooBoo isn't handicapped but seems to have diminished sensation and doesn't know when she needs to go out. She's had diarrhea intermittently for about a week. And it's raining. You know what that means. I woke up to puddles and puddles and more puddles, and poop in a few places. Luckily most of it was in the kitchen so I only had to "ride the mop" in there, but evidently BooBoo started out in the living room because I could follow the trail of poop from where she had been sleeping. So explain to me why a Basset Hound, a hunting breed, won't go out in the rain. Why will selfsame dog roll in the mud? Why can't I teach one of them to wield the mop? I seem to have more questions than answers.
ReplyDeleteNigel is so lucky to have people who love him as much as you and John do. I'm sorry for all of you having to go through this. Laura (and Geoffrey, Henry, and Molly too)
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