First, the dog (read, idiot) went out for his morning run while Peter fetched the paper – wait – the dog fetched, Peter retrieved. But Chip is a Labrador Retriever, so why doesn’t he just get the paper?
Because that idiot dog would rather roll in poop.
How do I find out about it? Ah, the good part.
I'm fresh from bed, dressed in my warmies and thinking about toast and an ice-cold glass of milk when Chip comes up for his morning "OMG it's Joyce it's JOYCE! I worship JOYCE!!”
He runs through my legs as I go to scratch his back. I realize my pants leg is wet and look down. And see a lovely smear of . . .
Green, unidentifiable, poop.
Good. Freakin’. Morning.
I shriek, as is my favourite thing to do first thing in the morning. I chase the dog away, ripping the clothes from my body, shuddering and gasping and trying not to imagine what type of animal that had effectively just marked me.
Chip got a Palmolive and cold-hose bath immediately.
Then, I get to my office downstairs, where my cat has spent the night. Across the top of my desk is a nice little trail of mouse droppings, courtesy of number one and number two.
Sigh. My pets are SO fired.
I just knew it was going to
be one of those days.