My alarm goes off at 7:00 this morning. My first task of the day is to let the four dogs outside. Four, are you insane? Who has four dogs? Not us. We have three. The fourth is a stow away. We are babysitting our friends' dog while they are on vacation. Let me add that we have three of the laziest dogs ever. And I do mean EVER. They are so lazy in fact, that I can put them in any position with any props and take pictures all night. Did you see my posts on Tricknee and Walking Dead. I mean seriously, see what I mean? So lazy. The dog we are babysitting is the exact opposite. He is much younger than our dogs. He is around 2 and there is plenty of puppy left in him. Also, I should mention that our dogs weigh about 30 pounds and that is all of them together. Nobennyno, that is what we call him, weighs about 100 pounds more than that. He is massive (compared to our dogs.)
Back to this morning, 7:00... alarm... dogs... continuing on. So I get up to let my herd out. And I am hit my a powerful smell. The kind of smell you don't soon forget. I let all four dogs out and go in search of the present they left me. I thought for sure the culprit was Nobennyno. His gifts are usually quite large and unpleasant to clean up. But what present of this nature wouldn't be unpleasant to clean up? Nope, Nobennyno is innocent for once in his life. The guilty party was one of my sweet, innocent babies. Well maybe sweet and innocent goes a little to far. The moral of the story is that one of my three dogs, which I might add all sleep in the same crate and night, has had explosive diarrhea. Imagine, if you will, what it might be like to put three dogs in a box, have one of their colons explode and then leave them in said box for hours. That image is what I discovered. My poor baby girl had poop on her face, her head, her back, her body, her stomach, her feet. So basically everywhere.
At this point I have to wake The Smooch. I go to the bedroom. "Smooch?" I say gently. "Code Red!" The Smooch springs out of bed (I have never seen this happen before) and is ready to deal with whatever happens next. I feel the first stirring deep down inside and I think I might be smitten. He grabs all three dogs and ushers them into the bathroom and immediantly starts bathing them all. I start to think maybe I like him a lot. He bathes each dog in turn and I dry each one off. While he finishes bathing and drying the dogs, I tackle the crate.
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After the crate is cleaned, I realize that I am an hour late for work and still need to get ready. I start rushing towards the bathroom when The Smooch stops me. He looks deep into my eyes and says "Baby, why don't I go pick up McDonald's breakfast for you while you are getting ready." That's it. Call my mother, I am in love. The Smooch knew that I needed a little something to make my day better. That's when I found love, in the bottom of a McDonald's bag.
It amazes me how my definition of love has changed. It used to be special presents, dinners out, or telling me that I look nice. Now it is cleaning up dog shit and buying me McDonalds. I am not going to lie. I don't know if this makes me feel older, wiser and happier or sad and pathetic. What do you think? What does love mean to you? I want to hear your stories too!!
