Sometimes all it takes is one adventure with my 6 1/2 month old puppy to remind me how completely ill-prepared I am for children at the age of 22.
At 22 years old, my mother was already diligently caring for my infant self, and I have to give her a lot of credit for being able to cope with parenthood at such a young age – although compared to today’s standards, 22 may not be so young after all. As for me, I truly do not believe I have the skills or the patience to bring a child into this world without having a complete and total meltdown.
I decided to take a quick break from work at the office today and drive home to walk my puppy. We’re still working on housetraining so she tends to have the occasional accident, especially when left in her crate for several hours at a time. Upon opening the front door, I’m unhappily – and that’s putting it mildly – greeted with the smell of shit. Yes, the odor of poop had completely enveloped my entire house.
And there’s my puppy, my little Sophie girl, standing in her crate, all excited to see that her Mommy is home … and covered in crap.
Sophie is a smaller dog, partly due to the fact that she is a baby still, and all four paws, her legs and her black belly with the few white hairs were ornamented with feces. And yet, her tail wagged, back and forth, back and forth, so happy to finally find freedom from her jail-like crate with her Mommy.
But what do I see? The same happiness of coming home and playing with my puppy? Oh no. I see my ever-so-stupid puppy who clearly laid in her own droppings and used that disgested food to paint the entire bottom of the crate with her paws. The black bottom to that crate was no more; it had turned a soft brown color, reminiscent of sponge painted walls.
The adventure ensued when I let her out of the crate and she ran throughout the house, marking my couch and hardwood floors with poop paw prints – nowhere near as cute as the “Blue’s Clues” prints of yesteryear. And after half an hour of spraying down the crate outside as rain fell from above, I tried to hose down my puppy. Needless to say, that was a task and a half. I should have had a towel ready to dry her off when returning inside, but I just wanted the shit removed from my household and did not think through the menial tasks necessary for success. Somehow Sophie found the dress shirt I had worn to work and taken off in place of a hoodie as I cleaned her mess, and it was that dress shirt she used to dry off.
Once upon a time as a child, I reached into my diaper and painted the walls for my parents. An embarrassing fact, indeed, but true, and it was that thought that entered my mind as I cleaned Sophie’s mess. Unfortunately for my mother, she couldn’t drag the hose inside to wash off my artwork. And I, for one, might stick to just puppies and no babies for another decade or so.
Leave a Comment so far
Leave a comment