The 2nd Great Poop Disaster of 2008

Oh my goodness. I am now finally recovered enough to type this tale without feeling panicked. Bess was up in my room in her crate and the guys were out running. Everything was quiet as I walked into the bedroom and a wall of stench. In the few minutes since I had last been in the room Bess had an explode-a-poop in her crate and was standing in it. Luckily she didn't sit in it, but it looked a little as if she had been fingerpainting with it. Her bed, toys, chews, blanket, and even the blanket draped over the outside of the crate had poop on them.

Now, although this was disgusting, it isn't like I haven't had to clean out a poopy crate before. Puuuuuleeeaaase. The problem was, I'm home alone with a dog that hates water, can't have her pulse race, and I've got to get her washed off. At the same time, I know that at any moment the guys will ring the doorbell because for some reason the extra weight of running with a key kills them and they need me to open the door for them. This will set Frodo off, who will bark until the door is opened. In the meantime I'm holding a dog that is dripping in crap.

I got the shower sprayer down, warmed the water, and then tried to spray off her legs and paws thinking she wouldn't mind it as much. Her legs were spinning, trying to climb out of the tub and I could feel her heart pumping. I was panicking and thinking - oh please don't die, please don't die. Poop is everywhere - in the tub, on me, on her - THEN the doorbell rings because the guys are home and they want ME to come downstairs and open the door for them. Like clockwork, our neurotic dog Frodo starts barking his head off. I'm crying and trying to calmly whisper the whole time, "It's okay baby, you're alright, we're almost done good girl..." OMG!! I just about had a nervous breakdown. The good news is that for the first time ever Hunter didn't repeatedly ring the doorbell until I came to open the door. After the second ring I heard the garage door open.

Troy helped clean up the crate while I dried and calmed Bess and he even got everything in the washer. Then Hunter went and got a magazine and crawled in bed with the freshly cleaned Bess and held her while he read and talked on the phone to his friend. She curled up under the covers, let out a big sigh and fell asleep, exhausted from her ordeal.

I have to hand it to all of you Midwest/East Coast foster moms who go through this over and over with your foster dogs. You gals must have nerves of steel.

I am assuming a day of chewing pizzles and tendons had something to do with Bess' upset tummy. Likely, the heartworm meds are also taking their toll. I mixed some pumpkin puree in with her food tonight and hopefully that will help put a halt to any "3rd Poop Disaster of 2008." For those of you who are new to the blog, back in July we had the "1st Poop Disaster of 2008" with our foster dog Mango.

So, things are calm and quiet again. The dogs are all snoozing in their crates and the guys are in bed. I am confident that we can avoid anymore problems like this. Plus, I'm proud of how the guys quietly stepped in to help calm Bess and get things back to normal - whatever normal might be in this dog crazy household.