It’s been a whirlwind couple days with Happy Dingo (hard for it not to be). Yesterday evening Jen kept insisting that she smelled shit as we sat in the living room watching TV. She does this funny thing where she smells the heads of the dogs to determine if they’ve rolled in shit (which Stella has a reputation for doing — the most infamous time, of course, being in the cow patties in the East Bay when Shannon and I took her for a hike on March 27, 2001 when we were both unemployed). Last night, they hadn’t, but Jen kept insisting she smelled poo.
We went on with our night and then Jen discovered a little gift courtesy of Happy Dingo. Luckily, she hit the lights before walking into the office to turn on the computer (she almost had walked right in). Sure enough, there was a giant pile of turds from HDMcG. The plus is that they were solid. One strike against Happy.
This morning after sleeping in longer than usual, Jen took the beasts out for a stroll. When she returned with the kids and announced that HDMcG had not peed, she knew immediately that he had gone somewhere in the house. Sure enough, on a plastic bag under the stairs was a Happy puddle. Again, it’s fortunate that most of the damage was on the plastic bag. Two strikes against Happy. Admittedly, though, it is partially our fault for having taken for granted the fact that Happy had been so good for nearly a full week. We haven’t been diligent enough in taking him out right before bed and right when waking up.
I’ll be heading home yet again at lunchtime today to take out SBN and HDMcG.
