A Story Long Waiting To Be Told

I brought home a puppy as a gift for my husband - completely against his will - about 3 years ago.

She did nothing but lie around for the first few days, and was just too sweet. Although she was quick to potty train, I have one vivid memory of a mishap that affected my husband in the worst way.

Our 5th child had just turned 1 year old when I brought the new puppy, Rebel, home. 1 is that lovely age, where a child is into everything, and our 5th was an especially big mess maker.

We live in an unfinished church/house, where my husband and I share the large walk-in closet that is located in our kids' room. In turn our walk-in closet has been converted to a toy room that is under lock and key. Yes I tend to be a bit of a control freak. I actually try and make my kids check out their toys, but that's a story for a whole other day.

I bring up the closet in the kids' room because our one year old, felt she had the daily duty to enter that closet and "clean" the shelves. Her cleaning consisted of pulling out every item she could reach, and piling it all up, in a big heap, covering the carpeted closet floor. This unnerving act in itself was just about enough to do me in, let alone what is to follow.

Now is where the dog comes in. During the week or so prior to her becoming potty trained, she, like any dog, tried to hide her duties so as not to be found out.

This particular winter morning, #5 arose early, and performed her chore of "cleaning" the closet. The new pup arose not long after, and found the closet to be a perfect location to hide her "duty". Both were followed by my husband - who was running a little late for a new job - grumpily shuffling through his mess of clothes on the floor in an attempt to find what he needed to wear.

Once dressed, My other half gave us kisses and love, and dashed out the door. Just 30 seconds later he dashed back in, grabbed another pair of shoes, and on his way back out he shouted to me in the kitchen, "The dog left a mess in the closet, could you deal with that?"

I quickly cleaned up the mess, and put away the clothes - which were becoming a daily procedure in themselves - then moved on with my day. About an hour passed, when as the kids an I were settling down for school, the phone rang. It was my husband, so I picked up.

At first, I could not tell if he was angry, or laughing, and after he shared the story of his morning drive (which was only half done) I understood his mood completely.

Earlier in the morning, when he got into the car, he had smelt something and figured it must dog poop, thus the second pair of shoes. All during the first part of his drive, he kept getting whiffs of it, even after changing his shoes. Right before he called me, however, he had taken off his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair. An action that I'm sure is a common habit, but this particular time, the result was much different than any time before.

An odd chill ran down his spine, I'm sure, when to his surprise, there was some thick, soupy, goo mixed into his thick, coarse, hair. Upon pulling his hand back out, the random whiffs of dog poop were now quite clear.

You see, he hadn't stepped in dog poop on his way out, the dog had picked his hat - which had been strewn on the floor by our 1 year old - to do her duties in that morning. In my husband's rush not to be late, he did not notice the smallish size blob as he placed the hat on his head. No, he did not notice it until he habitually attempted to run his fingers through his hair.

Fortunately for him, he made this discovery just a minute or two before the only rest stop along his 2 hour drive to a job for a new customer.

Unfortunately for him this particular rest stop did not have running water, at least not the conventional kind.

It did, however, have a river nearby. A river freckled with ice, in which my husband dipped his head, running his fingers through his hair once again. This time, to clear the hair of any poop that might remain. And afterwards, he doused his head with hand sanitizer, and put on a new "poop-free" hat which had been left in his car, tossing the old one into the garbage.

And the moral of the story is? Always keep a spare hat in your car. Especially if you have a puppy/1year old combo at home. :)

Life is All surreal.

MJB

Oh. . . and as far as the dog goes. She is man's best friend, and my husband is hers. She quickly potty trained, and has a nose for birds, but you'll have to read about that in How to Teach a Bird Dog to Flush.