If you have been following my blog the past few weeks, you will know that I recently woke up under a pile of dog poop. We all got a good laugh, and I got a new duvet, and life went on. My sweet puppy had been banned from the bedroom, permanently, until, in a moment of weakness, I brought him upstairs with me to watch television one evening last week. I felt like maybe he was feeling neglected and wanted to show him that I still cared about him despite my lack of patience with him during daytime hours. I crawled under the covers and he nestled in next to me.
The plan was to let him hang out with us while we watched a thirty-minute show and then Mr. Incredible would let him out and then lock him up in his kennel for the night when he got up to turn of the lights, set the alarm, and start the dishwasher. Mr. I is a night owl and happily takes care of the night-time routine downstairs. I have been known to doze off during the first ten minutes of a show, so it is understood that none of this is my responsibility.
The problem is, every 67th night or so, Mr. Incredible also dozes off. Unfortunately, this was one of those nights. About 3 hours and 47 minutes after we had both fallen asleep, I awoke to a scream.
I thought he was dreaming. I was facing the opposite direction and began to roll over.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“NO! SHIT! IT’S EVERYWHERE.”
I had completed my roll and suddenly was facing an incredible amount of fecal material of all varieties. There were not only piles on the end of the bed on top of the covers, but also several between Mr. Incredible and myself. The blankets were slightly folded back and the dog had strategically aimed in that section of the bed and managed to soil a top sheet, two blankets, a quilt, and my new comforter, not to mention the fitted sheet that was indescribable.
While I am not usually easily roused in the middle of the night, I was on my feet instantly, and Mr. Incredible and I went to work without speaking wiping our bed and removing the bedding. We had not yet made eye contact. I know we were both silently blaming each other. About the time we thought things couldn’t get any worse, we locked eyes. His hands moved up towards his neck and my eyes followed. The left side of his neck was covered in shit. In our overwhelmed and sleepy state, it had gone undetected.
I grabbed the Clorox wipes, despite the fact that they are not meant for skin, and began wiping his neck. I didn’t know what else to do. We then glanced back to the bed and realized the dog had taken one of his many dumps directly on the pillow and at some point, Mr. Incredible had rolled onto it, which explained why the smell had awoken him first.
We continued cleaning for an hour. Despite the below freezing temperatures outside, we had five windows open in our bedroom and the fan at full speed. I was satisfied with the odor removal until Mr. Incredible stepped into the shower and the entire room was once again filled with the fragrance of hot poop.
“Where is that smell coming from?!” we both yelled at the same time. He poked his head out of the shower and as he turned, I saw it. Another smattering of dog poop was dried to the back of his neck and hair and was now hot and wet and unbelievably smelly. He had been walking around for over an hour with dog shit caked in his hair, and neither of us had noticed.
After he scrubbed away the last remnants of the night, and we crawled into bed feeling exhausted and violated, we both remarked that we were having the worst dreams before we woke up. He, of being in a dirty, smelly, river, and me of a vacation house with filthy beds. We happily drifted to back to sleep knowing that no nightmare could now compare to the reality we had just experienced.