Yuck, yuck, yuck

Please, oh please, let me make all of you laugh...at my expense of course. As many of you know we recently got a new puppy...a Boxer. Let me set this up for you. Tonight Jon had a softball game. I am sitting on the couch with Lucas and the puppy as he leaves for the game. I get up and let the dog out in the back yard. I let the dog back in and put her in her crate while I do a couple of things.

I am in the bathroom for all of a minute when Lucas comes to the door yelling, "Oooh, nasty diarrhea poop". No, he is NOT talking about me. I quickly realize that he is talking about the puppy. I hurry and exit the safety of my quiet bathroom and head for the puppy.

I enter the puppies room...better known as the laundry room. Please envision that since we originally had bought two puppies her crate is gigantic, like probably 50 lbs and incredibly bulky. What I see is, in fact, nasty puppy diarrhea poop. I'm talking loads of the stuff. Not only that but the sweet, little puppy of mine has decided that she will stomp all through it and roll around in it.

As I'm standing in the doorway trying to figure out exactly how to get the crate and dog outside on my own, I start hearing a gagging sound. Lucas is coming down the hall, catches a whiff, and begins puking all over the hallway. As he is doing so, he starts yelling something about a spider...he runs...while puking...back down the hallway. Yep, weak stomach for one, scared of a spider about 1/2 the size of a dime. I'm talking puke everywhere. Should I mention that he had just eaten chicken nuggets and a Ding-Dong (as previously mentioned in the last post)???

Now I'm still trying to figure out what to do. I kill a spider, make Lucas stand still, call Jon...who dies laughing...maneuver and huge crate onto the back porch, get Lucas into the bathtub, clean up vomit, throw away the towel b/c it just grosses me out to think of it in the washer, let the dog out of the cage, stand outside in the cold for 10 minutes hosing down the crate, realize that the dog needs to be cleaned, realize that the hose water is too cold, go inside to put warm water in the mop bucket, open the garage door as the puppy rushes in through my legs making the mop bucket spill all over me and my floor, clean up the water, refill the bucket, dunk the dog into it, realize I'm gonna have to use my bare hands to clean her, dry out the crate, maneuver it back inside, put her back into it, call April to vent...who dies laughing...call my mom...who dies laughing, I realize Jon's game has been over for an hour and he still isn't home, call him to have him tell me that he didn't want to rush right home to diarrhea dog, vomitting kid and irritated wife. Do you blame him? Do you blame me?

I am sitting here typing this...waiting for him to come home so he can check the laundry room to make sure that the incident hasn't repeated itself. Because let's be honest here...I don't have it in me to go check myself. I'm afraid that if I do...I might just lose it!!

Yuck, yuck, yuck!!!