Motivated by my oldest child’s grief over losing her beloved cat, I decided to keep my eyes open for another pet. A pet that would be hers. A pet that, unlike Doc, could sleep on her bed without forcing Mr. Andi to pull out his inhaler. A dog that, as she said, would be “small like Daisy but not as wild.”
Three weeks to the day after the death of Doc, Stella arrived.
Now, mind you, I’m not regretting adopting Stella. She is loving, affectionate, and has taken well to training since she’s been with us. She likes everyone, doesn’t fear anyone, and I am confident that she’ll be a great family dog once she learns a little more about House Manners. But the fact remains that I am now alone in the house for approximately seven hours each day with a Westie, a Schnauzer-ish, and a two year old boy.
And as great as Stella is, adding her to the mix has thrown the balance of the family off a bit. And by “thrown the balance off” I mean that we have reached new heights in chaos. And by “reached new heights in chaos” I mean that I am about to lose my mind.
Around 10 am on Monday, Nathan was sitting on the kitchen floor and I noticed what looked like a small rolled-up dry leaf stuck to his leg. When I reached to pull it off, I realized it wasn’t a leaf, but a large crumb of poo. I quickly discovered a few more poo crumbs on his thighs.
I swooped him up and headed for his bedroom to change him. When I unsnapped his diaper, I was surprised to find poo of an entirely different color from what was on his leg. Now I was concerned; I’d kept a watchful eye on Stella almost every minute, and when I couldn’t watch her, she was in her crate. Not to mention that ever since she arrived her bowels have been producing a concoction that doesn’t resemble either of the poos I’d seen in the last two minutes.
Whose poo is this?
I spent the next
hour few minutes scouring the house for poo. I checked the kitchen. I checked the living room. I checked the dining room. I checked the hallways. I checked the crates. No poo. My skin began to crawl as I imagined all of the possibilities about where the poo may have come from, and – more concerning – where the balance of the poo could be at that moment.
WHOSE POO IS THIS???
While I covered every square inch of the house, my entourage – Nathan, Daisy, and Stella – followed me like I was the Pied Piper of Hamlin. Stella because she doesn’t leave my side, Daisy because she is ever vigilant in policing Stella’s moves, with Nathan bringing up the rear, squealing with delight, pointing, and saying, “Dawg! Dawg! Dawg! Dawg! Dawg!”
I began to wonder about the decision to add another knee-high being to our household.
Eventually, I managed to put the poo out of my mind – sort of – and proceeded to sit on the couch and catch up on email. Ever-Present-Stella joined me, followed by Nathan, who proceeded to drive me mad by doing the following, repeatedly, for the better part of the morning:
Just another day in paradise. And the fact that I call it that is evidence of how far my descent into madness has progressed.
And the poo? I found the rest of the pile a few hours later. It was disguised as a knot in our navy-and-brown rug, and appeared to have been tracked in by someone from outside. At least, that’s the story I’m going with, lest I hit rock bottom.