in the doghouse

It’s dark and the dog smells of poop.

Wow. I should have started my NaNoWriMo novel with those words. Let me go do that now.

Ok. Back.

It’s dark and the dog smells of poop.

I can’t decide if he rolled in it or ate it. It doesn’t matter to HIM -either way, he’s happy – but I need to figure out if a breath mint or a bath is in order. I find myself hoping that he ate it, because while that is gross and foul and disgusting in SO many ways, it has the virtue of being relatively contained and doesn’t require a prolonged session with the water hose in 30-degree weather.

Whereas if he ROLLED in it, God help us, it’s everywhere, and he could get a 20-minute bath with Scrubbing Bubbles and a G.I. Brush and STILL come out of it smelling of poop.

Either way, he’s not sleeping in MY room tonight.


3 thoughts on “in the doghouse

  1. AAH! The reasons for not having a pet!

    My OH wants a dog – i keep saying no because as lovely and loyal as they are I don’t like the cold so I dont want to end up being the one who walks it!

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