Saturday night my dog, Clara, woke me up four different times to either let her out or let her in. She was very persistent and the only reason for being let in or out seemed to be to chase the wind and bark at the grass. Sunday night around midnight she started the same song and dance. I decided I was going to be persistent right back and ignored her. I didn’t want her to get in the habit of doggy “partying” every night. She kept it up for about an hour.
This morning I woke up to the smell. You know the one. I knew immediately what had happened. Poor Clara had diarrhea last night. Several spots on the carpet and in her bed. My poor baby. I feel beyond terrible. A good and faithful friend and she can’t even count on me to care for her when she’s sick and caring for her was as simple as opening a door. Please assume every horrible mother (doggy and human) implication you can think of.
I gacked my way through cleaning it up, while struggling with my own stomach issues. I thought about calling in sick but it was already pretty late and I thought it would be better to be up and moving. Head achy, tired and crabby day at school but had to act normal for the kids. Now cooking a pot of soup while I cook up my emotions.