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.
Friggin’ GROSS!
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.
