It's Saturday morning and I have waited ALL WEEK LONG for this day. Why? Because I finally would be able to sleep in. I had nowhere to go, no reason to get up before at least 730-800. It was me and my pillow. We had been planning this rendezvous for quite some time.
So about six this morning I'm sound asleep and suddenly I'm smelling something rank. I, naturally, automatically assume that the cat has defecated somewhere in my room, totally forgetting that my puppy is sleeping in his crate at the foot of my bed.
By this time the stench has disturbed me enough that I am twenty five percent awake. I ask Flint if he's OK. When he doesn't respond I start the terrible process of getting up.
Normally this would take a good half hour, but I'm seriously suffocating by this time and I want to know what the hey is so smelly.
Understand that my room is not large and the windows are closed because this is Canada, people, and it's freaking cold.
Puppy is perched in the corner, the malodorous stench bringing tears to my eyes, and poo is smeared all over the bottom of his crate.
It has foot marks in it.
Here I will remind everyone that it's six in the morning. What to do with a poop covered (white!) puppy at six am?
I go bang on my roomie's door, apologize for waking her up, but I need her assistance to prevent smearage all over the furniture.
Forty minutes later everything is right in my world again and I'm lying on the couch (because my room has lingering scent issues) and thinking about the post I did a few weeks ago for Six Sentence Sunday in which the pup smeared poop all over my main character's new sofa. (You can catch it here.)
In the back of my head I can hear Andie laughing. That's karma baby.
Have a great weekend!