Earlier this week I had a RUDE awakening, but before I get into all that, you have to understand some background.
Sammy used to have all kinds of stomach problems when she was a pup. There were weeks straight where we would come home to find her crate a mess with diarrhea. It was heart wrenching to see her ashamed, cowering in her own mess. We didn't keep her in her crate for long. While we were working with the vet to solve her 'issues' we did many things to ensure she could let us know when she HAD TO GO. First we hung a bell from the door and every time we let her out, we encouraged her to touch her nose to the bell. It's amazing to me that years later, she still uses this technique, especially when we are ignoring her. Second she must sleep upstairs with us. I am a light enough sleeper that I can hear her paws on the linoleum. This discover came after we discovered she would sneak to the basement to do her business in the middle of the night. Now if I hear those paws moving, I'm up in a flash. If I'm really sleepy I''ll tell her to get back in her bed. If she REALLY has to go, she'll whine and I know I'd better get up.
OK, fast forward to earlier this week. I'm snug as a bug in a rug when I hear those tell tale paws heading for the stairs. I was so comfortable..."get in your bed Sam" I told her as I started to drift back asleep. It could have been two minutes or five minutes, but I heard her paws on the floor again. Just as I was about to tell her to get back in her bed, i hear a sound of something between a liquid and a solid splat on the ground. No matter the end it came out of I was on my feet, out of bed, giving her a WIDE berth fumbling for the light switch. There was probably two seconds in the dark that my mind tried to discern based on the sound, which end the mess originated from.
The second I found the switch, the smell smacked me in the face. It wasn't puke. I raced downstairs to let her out and grab cleaning supplies. By the time I cam back to the bedroom, I was walking into a wall of the foulest smelling dog poop you could imagine. Hubs was in bed, covering his face with a blanket, gagging. I normally have a strong constitution for these type of things but this time, this time I almost vomited all over that mess.
I cleaned furiously. i did not want to give that smell enough time to permeate. When I got the mess cleaned as much as I could, I went outside to find Sammy. I opened the side door to see her hiding around the corner of the house. She wouldn't come near the door as she stood far away. Her ears were perked as she looked at me as if to ask, "are you mad at me mom?" Damn that dog is cute. Almost cute enough for me to forgive her. I cheerily invited her back inside to show I wasn't mad. She ran straight to her bed. I gave her a couple pets to reassure her that I know it was her fault while I mentioned that she could have at least whined once or twice. I mean, I thought that was our system.
So here we all are, back in the bedroom with the poop stench still lingering and I look at the clock: 5:30 AM.