Why you shouldn’t eat poop
This morning I was greeted by the most disgusting mess, not even 12 hours after I had cleaned up the next-most-disgusting mess.
Last night our girl dog barfed up some black vomit all over the kitchen rugs (one of which, a small welcome mat, went right into the trash). She apparently had a lot to let go after a long day of panting her horrible breath in my direction. We got this gorgeous rug to go under our kitchen table so the table and chairs wouldn’t scratch the hardwood floor. It is only a year or so old. When I tossed out the welcome mat, part of which had overlapped the other rug, I noticed a two-inch strip of very clean rug underneath.
Why do dogs always have to make a mess on the rug when there is plenty of hardwood and tile that they could just barf, poop, or pee on?
It got me thinking about how gross rugs really are and redoubled my desire to rent the professional carpet cleaning machine from the supermarket over Labor Day weekend (what else is there to do on that weekend besides labor…and probably go to a baseball game) — something I do once a year or so, with my Bissell Spot Bot filling in the rest of the time, as it did last night, and this morning.
Last night’s cleanup isn’t even dry yet (the fact that it’s like 90% humidity doesn’t help at all) and I walked right into this morning’s mess. More piles of black vomit in the hallway and on the landing Thank God it’s not on the rug, I thought, but I hadn’t seen it all yet.
There was a nice big spot of barf on the carpet, one on the window seat cushion, a big heap on the dog bed, and the piece de resistance, a long trail of pee all across the living room rug. I didn’t think the girl dog had left the bedroom, one of the boy dogs was crated, thus it had to be my “baby,” the pit bull, who barfed.
The pee is a quasi-mystery, though.
My baby made himself scarce as I got the cleaning supplies out. He knows whenever he hears the Spot Bot that Mommy is usually unhappy.
It took me the better part of an hour to clean up the mess, the same as it did the night before. In between I sent and answered work emails, muttered, and texted my husband about how gross dogs are, why do we even have carpets, and outlined in detail how glad I was that I hadn’t eaten yet because my stomach was heaving and I retched as I wiped up the gelatinous mess of poop-barf from the hardwood floor in the hallway. I told him “on a scale of 1-10 where 1 = not too gross and 10 = severely gross, this was like 11+.”
My eyes watered and my stomach twisted and I realized there were black stinky spatters all over the baseboards and door frame. The spot in the landing featured extended drops stuck on the radiator (hopefully I got rid of all those as I wouldn’t want to have that scent blasted through our home once heating season begins).
I lit candles. I sprayed the spots with odor eliminator even after they were cleaned. I used sanitizing wipes on my computer and cell phone.
Then I drove my oldest to his sophomore orientation. I ranted the whole way.
“Honestly, why can’t dogs just barf outside? Why didn’t anyone ask me to let them out? Why eat poop in the first place? Did they forget that they got sick last time? How long is a dog’s memory anyway? Do you think dogs are our friends or is it just a relationship based on respect (this came up because he’s reading The Life of Pi and I wondered of the boy and the tiger had become friends)? After these dogs, I’m going to be done with dogs. Okay, maybe not all the way done, but maybe I’ll want a smaller dog, like a corgi or a Jack Russell terrier.” Then I shared my dry-heaving experience with him.”Gross, mom. Actually, I’m feeling a little sick thinking about it.”
“Gross, mom. Actually, I’m feeling a little sick thinking about it.””Yeah, me, too.”
“Yeah, me, too.”