It’s 4:15 am. Your children are peacefully sleeping; you and your hubby are snuggled together in bed. Some sound awakens you. You don’t hear it again, but since you’re awake, you decide you want to do more than snuggle. Then you realize what the sound is. It’s the dog - she’s standing in the kitchen, scratching at the return air vent in the floor, whining to go outside.
Just ignore her. She’ll get tired and lay down. Proceed with intimacy. The dog races into the room and starts scratching at the bed and whining. You know you can’t focus on the task at hand with such distraction. So you get up, walk towards the kitchen and step in something cold and wet. No, it’s not pee. It’s puke. Dog puke.
The intimate moment gone, you grab the Resolve, a sponge and the spray bottle and start scrubbing. Less than 2 minutes into this job, the dog starts barking and howling outside. In an effort to keep the kids asleep and the neighbors from calling the police, you race to the door and call her in. It’s pitch black outside – and so is she – so you realize you’ll never find her. After calling her name in your loudest whisper voice, she finally comes in. Just then, you forget that you had dog puke on your sock and as you turn around to go back to the scrubbing, you see that you’ve tracked it through the hall. It’s now 4:30 am. Your alarm is supposed to go off at 5:00.
You take your sock off, throw it at the dog (who is now lying peacefully on the couch sleeping) and turn on the shower. You go back to your husband and say, “Wake up, your dog made a mess” then do a strip tease and climb into the shower, slamming the door and the start of your morning behind you.
The dog will NOT be getting a treat before bed EVER again.
Just ignore her. She’ll get tired and lay down. Proceed with intimacy. The dog races into the room and starts scratching at the bed and whining. You know you can’t focus on the task at hand with such distraction. So you get up, walk towards the kitchen and step in something cold and wet. No, it’s not pee. It’s puke. Dog puke.
The intimate moment gone, you grab the Resolve, a sponge and the spray bottle and start scrubbing. Less than 2 minutes into this job, the dog starts barking and howling outside. In an effort to keep the kids asleep and the neighbors from calling the police, you race to the door and call her in. It’s pitch black outside – and so is she – so you realize you’ll never find her. After calling her name in your loudest whisper voice, she finally comes in. Just then, you forget that you had dog puke on your sock and as you turn around to go back to the scrubbing, you see that you’ve tracked it through the hall. It’s now 4:30 am. Your alarm is supposed to go off at 5:00.
You take your sock off, throw it at the dog (who is now lying peacefully on the couch sleeping) and turn on the shower. You go back to your husband and say, “Wake up, your dog made a mess” then do a strip tease and climb into the shower, slamming the door and the start of your morning behind you.
The dog will NOT be getting a treat before bed EVER again.
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