This is the story of a dog. Well, it’s mostly a story of a dog. Let me start off by saying that this has not been a good week for Maggie, my usually good natured chocolate lab. On Saturday night, she managed to knock the drip tray of the George Foreman grill off the counter and lap up most of the still warm hamburger grease. Yep, I thought to myself, you’re going to be sick tomorrow. Little did I know that it wouldn’t take that long. Both Maggie and Winston usually sleep in their crates in the back bedroom and that’s why I was surprised to hear the scraping of a furry little paw on my bedroom door at 6:30 Sunday morning. Getting up to investigate, I was greeted with the nightmare scenario of patches of liquefied poo… in the living room, in the office, and all over the pup’s bedroom. In her efforts to franticly escape the rising tide in her crate, Maggie clearly flailed wildly about… as evidenced by flung poo reaching the six foot mark on the wall.
First step… toss the dogs out to the back yard and open the windows. Second step… mitigate as much of the damage as possible with paper towels and whatever cleaning liquids I happen to have around the house. Third step… wait for Walmart to open at 8:00. To cut a tragically long story short, I came home from Walmart (incidentally the only place open in the entire south at 8:00 on a Sunday morning) with a steam cleaner and spend the next ten hours or so washing, rinsing, and repeating. The evidence of evil past was fairly well taken care and I thought the worst was behind me.
I had been fasting Maggie for 24 hours and after the first post-explosion feeding on Monday, I was happy to see that things seemed a little more solid. You can imagine my disbelief when I woke up this morning to one more round of the craptastic chocolate lab. At least this time she didn’t get out of the crate and the damage was more contained. Still, running the steam cleaner at 5:00 on a Tuesday leaves something to be desired. Happily, I managed to clean and disinfect a bedroom, scrub down a crate, and still made it to work only 45 minutes later than usual. I’m hoping this isn’t a category that I need to start thinking of in terms of building a personal best record.
Before leaving for work, I drug the now clean and shiny crate through the house and made sure it was well wedged onto the linoleum. At least if there was another explosion, it would be easier to clean. Of course that was all before I got home this evening and discovered that through the last three days, Maggie has clearly figured out how to open the door to her crate or at least squeeze between the bars. Thinking it was a fluke, I put her back in the crate when I left to take Winston for his annual checkup (and pick up some drugs for Maggie). Of course when we got back form the vet, she was sprawled out in the middle of the kitchen floor sans crate.
It seems my beloved lab is breaking out all over. Tonight we’ll see if she can beat the marvel of zip ties and a newly engineered lock mechanism. I have a terrible feeling that she’s going to be better at breaking out than I am at keeping in. Wish me luck.