Spring Break: Day 4 (a.k.a. something hits the fan)

Berkley and I are no longer friends.

I sensed things going south yesterday afternoon, when she left me a poo smoothie in my bedroom... But nothing could have prepared me for this morning.

I got up bright and early to take a nice run while the morning was still cool, and smelled trouble as soon as I walked back into the house from the garage. I headed toward Berkley's room (the office) with trepidation, and opened the door to...

A poo EXPLOSION. I kid you not, there was poo everywhere, as if Berk had made a poo smoothie and a regular poo, and then went ahead and frolicked in it. All over the place. And she didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. She, in fact, danced all over my shoes and tried to crawl up my legs, thrilled that I had popped in to see her.

So I scooped her up and headed for the back door, while she licked my face and cuddled under my chin (she requires a lot first thing in the morning). As I set her down in the yard, I sniffed the air and thought, "Whew, it stinks out here today!"

And then I looked down at my brand-new, $120 running shoes and noticed that the portion that used to be silver was now an orangey-brown. I'm sure you can imagine what it was, and at this point you're probably thinking, "Oh no, where else was the poo?" Or maybe you aren't thinking that, because it's already too horrible.

Well, it gets worse. Because as I was howling about the shoes, I noticed that I still smelled poo when I stood up. I looked down at my shirt. "NO! Not there, too," you must be saying. Sadly, poo was indeed there. All over my shirt.

And then I brushed my hand across my cheek and felt something oddly slimy.

Oh yes. It was. Poo. On my face. At 7:00 a.m.

And then the true howling began. Because no one, and I do mean NO ONE, not even someone I hate with a firey passion, deserves to have puppy poo smoothie on her face EVER, and especially not at 7:00 a.m.

And on top of that, it really seems unfair to have to deal with that much at once, especially when there's still a poo explosion to deal with in the house (oh yeah, did you forget about that?). And a little wiggle-worm to bathe. And pants to iron. AND POO ON MY FACE (forgive me, but I just can't seem to get past that)! I will say this, though. I cleaned it ALL without throwing up (a first for me). That's right, ladies and gentlemen, give the lovely lady a handclap for developing a stomach of steel...

But, as previously mentioned, Berkley and I are no longer friends.