(I’m warning you now. This is not pleasant.)
Peeps, I don’t even know where to begin. Yesterday was surreal. But let’s start with The Exploding Pfluftagus.
Husband gets up early. Much earlier than I do, but that’s because he has A Commute and has to get his ass out the door before the traffic window closes. So, yesterday morning, he’s up, piddling around the house and goes into the kitchen to make some breakfast for himself. The next thing I know, I hear him come down the hall (quickly and with purpose) to wake me up.
I was a little groggy, but I believe he said, “The dog is sick.” Ugh.
I walk into our living room to find what could only be described as a minefield of biological functions all over the damn carpet. It appears that some time during the night The Pfluftagus had bad things coming out of all parts of her – and on to my carpet.
While Husband was busy trying to get the carpet cleaned, I tracked the culprit down to see if I could begin to figure out what the hell happened. She looked … disgusting. I tried to clean her up, but the smell of her completely nauseated me. And, apparently, so did Husband’s task, because we were both gagging simultaneously. It was a veritable symphony of wretching heard around the house.
I called the vet to explain, yet again, that we needed to bring the dog in because something was wrong. I got The Swimmy dressed, packed for school and out the door in record time – although I whiffed on brushing her teeth. Whatdya gonna do?
We drive rather speedily (but legally!) to the vet. Poor Pfluftagus was shaking the whole time with a completely pitiful look on her face and I felt badly for her. I tried to keep her calm while not trying to upset The Swimmy as well. A noble feat.
We finally get to the vet and The Pfluftagus gets out of the car and rushes over to the grass, pulling me with her so she can, yet again, go to the bathroom. It was the single most alarming dog moment I’ve ever had. Even The Swimmy looked and said, “Mommy? Ewwww. Her poo-poo looks funny. Is that digusting?”
“Yes, sweetie, it is.”
We finally get inside and see the vet who tells us it’s probably nothing, but they want to keep her there for the day and give her fluid and try to get her tummy (and, my G-d, her tushie!) under control.
Off to get The Swimmy to school. She would NOT stop talking about The Pfluftagus’ “weird poo-poo”. I’m wondering if it’s going to be one of those moments that will resurface in a therapy session years from now.
I have to tell her teacher about the morning festivities in case she continues to talk about the “weird poo-poo”. G-d knows I don’t need THAT phone call later today.
I get her dropped off and start to head to my next appointment. (Did I mention it was just now 8am? Yeah, that’s way too much going on before 8am.) I realize that at some point I’m going to come home to a house full of ruined carpets and immediately get on the phone to a carpet cleaning company.
The call went something like this:
“Carpet Cleaning Company here! How can we help you?”
“It appears my dog exploded in my living room last night and I need it cleaned up as soon as humanly possible. Can you make that happen?”
“No problem. We take care of exploding pets all the time. How’s today between 1 and 4pm?”
“That? Makes you my new hero.”
The rest of the day consisted of rush, rush, rush, get home, get home, get home, carpet cleaning, waiting for new shiny clean carpets to dry (squish), periodically checking on the dog, praying for the day to be over.
And then I had to go to a dinner meeting. Which, thank G-d, was lovely and relaxing.
I fell into bed, but part of me was a little afraid to go to sleep. Who knows what I might find the next morning?! But, I’ll tell you what I found all night long, a dog with the most earth-shattering gas imaginable. OH. MY. G-D!!
Life lesson #3698241: If you’re tired enough, you can sleep through almost anything.