Manure Blues: The sequel

To add manurey insult to manurey injury, my dog discovered the freshly dumped doo-doo in the fields yesterday afternoon. Not only did she gallop and cavort through the steamy stuff, she decided that eating it would present a new culinary adventure.

When I let her into the house and bent down to dish out her supper, I almost gagged. She had bits of manure hanging from her snout and sported brown smears up beyond her bony ankles. GAH!!! Thank heavens she's not the type of dog that likes to give kisses.

I banished her to the mud room for the rest of the night, where she moaned at me through the closed door every twenty minutes. It was too cold to put her outside in the doghouse all night, and since her hips are so sore lately, I didn't have the heart to leave her in the mudroom either. So inside she came, stink and all.

My reward for allowing my disgusting pet to sleep inside? A desperate 3am wake-up call - Neko scratching at the door for dear life - that I didn't get downstairs in time to answer. Note to self: NEVER run downstairs to aid a barfing dog in your bare feet. GAH GAH GAH!!!!