Wants to remain anonymous |
Waiting
tables on Friday nights at the Elks Lodge provides me with enough leftover food
to feed the dogs for a week. They dine on prime rib, rib-eye steak, halibut,
chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, rice, homemade rolls, and squash – not a
bad supplement to their organic kibble. I merely give them a spoonful each
night to sweeten the bowl and let them know what great dogs they really are.
Last week I actually had four boxes of leftovers that weighed between 2-3 lbs.
each, that I put in the freezer. I cannot believe how much food is wasted –
working in a restaurant is evidence of just how much we toss without a second
thought, while thousands of people go hungry every day – but that’s another
subject.
On
Tuesday I placed one of the boxes in the kitchen sink to thaw, and forgot about
it. The next morning much to my amazement the box while still in the sink, was
empty with only a few grains of telltale rice on the floor. There are only two
likely culprits that had access to the kitchen overnight – Bear and Mikki, the
Old English Sheepdogs. I threw the empty box in the trash and made breakfast
for twelve dogs. Bear walked away from his bowl making it all too obvious he
was the one that consumed the three pounds of steak. He never leaves food so I
can only assume he is too full of beef to care much about oatmeal and yogurt.
Whatever, it’s a done deal so there is no point in mentioning it. A dog must be
caught in the act to understand when you tell him a behavior is unacceptable.
Later
in the evening I went to dinner and indulged with my girlfriends – one has just
signed the closing papers on selling her home and the other had her possessions
moved to Hawaii where she just bought a house. Not one, not two, but THREE
Cosmos – one too many for the girl known to be a cheap date. Returning home to
twelve canines I took another box of leftovers out to thaw but this time I put
it in the oven, out of sight out of mind. Off and on during the night I heard
the Sheeps walking around downstairs but they are often restless on summer
nights when there is so much light.
The
following morning the dogs would not let me sleep past their usual get-up time
of 6:30. There is no mercy this morning, only hell to pay. I grabbed my
sweatshirt, found my shoes, opened the loft door and stumbled down the stairs
in a fog behind ten dogs going down and the Sheeps trying to climb up. This is
too much chaos in the wee hours of a rainy morning – the perfect time to be
sleeping. Sigh. . . We quickly get into a bottleneck situation, the lead dogs
stopping abruptly at the bottom of the stairs and flat refusing to move forward
– what the hell?
Oh
NO, the dreaded fear clinches my already queasy tummy. I have a hunch something
is lurking at the bottom of the stairs, just waiting for me as I wade through
the frozen-in-space canines. That’s when I see it. OMG not today, ANY day but
this one, please. Piles and piles of runny excrement scattered in blobs
throughout the first floor everywhere – thank God for vinyl flooring. One of
the Sheeps obviously had a major blowout and the results cover the floor. I try
to always look for the good in any disaster – so the good news? The stairs
appear clean and that is a consolation. Adding dogs with shitty feet to the
equation would have plunged me over the edge into the black abyss.
And
the smell, well it’s pretty bad. Finally getting around the dogs, I know what I
have to do and it isn’t pretty. Paper towels, a trash bag, a bucket of
disinfectant and a mop, but first I have to lead each dog around the poop
infused obstacle course without stepping on anything. No worries they make a
wide berth around each pile, walking on their tiptoes. For over an hour –
before I even have a pee - I cleaned and I cleaned and I cleaned SHIT. GAWD, it was exasperating.
No face shots! |
The
Sheeps have been coming to dog camp for five years and have never had an
accident in the house. No doubt they were trying to wake me up from my alcohol
induced sleep but failed to do so. I wonder if they are sick - is it one or
both of them? Maybe I need to call the vet. Several hours later after multiple
cups of coffee it finally hit me. I had totally spaced out the box of steaks
that had been consumed just 24-hours ago. Of course it was Bear because he’s
the one that ate the three pounds of rich food and was merely purging it out of
his system. I realize with relief he’s not sick at all, just stuffed. It had to
come out somewhere and when the urge hit him, it happened to be in the middle
of the night when the house was asleep. Poor boy must have been traumatized,
albeit relieved.
Today
was a long day but we managed to get through it by washing blankets, rugs,
floors and butts. OMG it’s going to be an early night. I had shit to pay all
day and I’m exhausted! Serves me right. . . The work of a dogsitter is done for
today.
Woof!
Woof!
We Woof You BearBoy! |