The second my bare foot hit the diarrhea I knew the tone of my entire day. First step from my bed, and directly after silencing the alarm clock, I put down my foot and found the problem. Seems one of my silly little Pomeranians had a stomach issue during the night. As I hopped on my good foot (isn’t that a song) to the bathroom, I saw the little puff ball hiding his face and wiggling around. Buster is the color of caramel and just a happy little empty headed pudding cup, most of the time, as he has serious abandonment issues being a pound dog and all. He is the perfect picture of a pom, obviously pure bread, and dreamingly delicate. But we only traded a chicken for him, so I dare not complain (yes, that is quite a story, I will tell you later). After rushing as fast as possible on my foot, to the potty and simultaneously washing my other foot in the tub, (I found I am pretty agile for an old broad) I had the other dog (another pom - a gift, sad story there, save for much later) Duke, starts freaking out completely because I am not on the way down stairs to let him out. I get the little pool of poo cleaned up and now have whipped them into a barking frenzy while they are dancing around to go out. I lfinally let Duke out and found that Buster had poo residue on his backside (huge disadvantage to the breed - lots of behind hair). So I pick him up and take him through the house to the other bathroom to clean him off when I locate another puddle of excrement - with again my bare foot. Now I have to hop into the bathroom while carrying a dirty dog. After another foot bath and hosing off a dog I am seriously getting tight on time. I go into the kitchen to feed the animals when I see a plate by their dog dishes. Seems my dear husband decided the dogs needed rigatoni left overs some time during the night. Lovely. It is all making sense now, he is sabotaging my morning, I will have to plot my revenge.
As I return to my room to get dressed, I hear Duke, who I left outside barking to come in. I ran back down but it was a hoax, he did not want to come in, he wanted me to come out and let the my mother in law's dog in. (okay, I live right by my in-laws, with our back yards touching and our dogs are best friends, jealous aren’t you??) I shut the door and run back up to finsh getting ready for work. By the time I am done, Duke will still not come in, so I take off my heels put on my son’s tennis shoes that are by the door (size 12, they look like snow shoes on me) so that I do not get my heels ruined in the wet dewy grass. The stupid dog starts running from me and I have to move like a cross county skier in my giant shoes and lovely skirt and blouse ensombel. I finally get him. My mother in law is screaming for her dog which sends my dog into fits because he loves 'grandma'. I pull him to me and realize he is very wet and pretty muddy, and now so am I. Great, if I go 80 miles an hour, I may get to work on time. I have to change, I rush upstairs and whip on a complete new outfit, including new underware, because I now am wearing white pants, and I had on …… okay does not matter, and could fall into the too much information category.
I manage to get to work within a somewhat reasonable ‘close to on time’ arrival . And start up the computer, get the voice mails, and start the sorting of the faxes, when I feel a little uncomfortable. My pants do not feel like they are fitting properly. I run to the ladies room, and find I have somehow managed to put my underwear on backwards. As I am washing my hands, my boss comes in and starts to tell me about how busy she is and how her day is not going well.
I wish I could bring my dogs to work.
8 years ago