Really. It is. Honest. And I’m not saying that to be a negative person or a Debbie downer. My life, as it so happens, is shit. At least today.
It all started about 6 o’clock this morning. Wails of, “Oh my God, what is that smell?” came wafting up from downstairs. Yet, these were not the queries of younglings anticipating a hot breakfast. These nose-scrunching odoriferous cries go along with the downstairs of my house being plastered in shit. Literally.
There was shit on the carpet, ca-ca in the kitchen, doo-doo in the breakfast nook, crap in the family room and (do not ask me how) even poop on the walls.
Like the responsible, mature adult I am, I hid under my covers pretending to be sleeping, and let the teenagers take care of cleaning duty.
What’s with all the shit?
Well, I have an ailing, older dog; a 13-year-old German Shepherd to be precise, Apollo. He has pretty much reached the apex of his life; his body has begun to give way. He suffers from cataracts, glaucoma, is partially deaf, has weak joints and now, for the past three days, has been unable to control his colon. If that wasn’t enough of a shitty situation, because of Apollo’s weak joints, there are some days the dog has trouble lifting himself upright long enough to evacuate his bowels, so he does it wherever he is; laying down, trying to stand up, or even when he is sitting. This results in his paws, tail and hind legs being constantly covered in shit. Shit that he spreads around as he travels the house. I never knew a single creature could produce so much excrement.
It all started about 6 o’clock this morning. Wails of, “Oh my God, what is that smell?” came wafting up from downstairs. Yet, these were not the queries of younglings anticipating a hot breakfast. These nose-scrunching odoriferous cries go along with the downstairs of my house being plastered in shit. Literally.
There was shit on the carpet, ca-ca in the kitchen, doo-doo in the breakfast nook, crap in the family room and (do not ask me how) even poop on the walls.
Like the responsible, mature adult I am, I hid under my covers pretending to be sleeping, and let the teenagers take care of cleaning duty.
What’s with all the shit?
Well, I have an ailing, older dog; a 13-year-old German Shepherd to be precise, Apollo. He has pretty much reached the apex of his life; his body has begun to give way. He suffers from cataracts, glaucoma, is partially deaf, has weak joints and now, for the past three days, has been unable to control his colon. If that wasn’t enough of a shitty situation, because of Apollo’s weak joints, there are some days the dog has trouble lifting himself upright long enough to evacuate his bowels, so he does it wherever he is; laying down, trying to stand up, or even when he is sitting. This results in his paws, tail and hind legs being constantly covered in shit. Shit that he spreads around as he travels the house. I never knew a single creature could produce so much excrement.
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| Apollo |
Thus, my life is shit.
Even though the kids cleaned up the mess this morning, I “found” some residual. (And by found, I mean stepped in.) So, as the twins left for school, I tore apart my kitchen and breakfast nook, swept, mopped and am now blogging about my shitty life while waiting for the floor to dry. All in the name of love…and shit.
I suppose that I could waste my time getting mad about the fact that my life is this full of shit, but there isn’t a point. See, Apollo has given me 13 great years. A bakers dozen full of years with wet noses, wagging tails, bright eyes, disgustingly slobbery doggy kisses and (all the while) putting up with my shit. And now that he’s nearing the end, it’s my turn to put up with his. So, yeah, my life is full of shit, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I totally understand your plight, but ya gotta do it for Apollo. They are friends truly befitting the title, agape love.
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