You know that point in a hangover when you’re at your very worst? Where the room is spinning, your head is throbbing and if you sit up, you know a king size vomathon is going to take place. That is the point when I woke up Sunday morning only to hear the unmistakable gurgles of my dog shitting all over my rug.
Let me backtrack a bit. This all started Saturday evening on our nightly walk. I was in a bit of a hurry since I was (as usual) running late for a dinner with friends and I had to swing by Argonaut to pick up some brews for people coming by in between dinner and Big Top Denver. So, naturally, I decided to take Zed to Argonaut with me since they’re dog-friendly. It became clear about 20 feet from my apartment building that he would not be going into the liquor store with me.
The pup had the squirts. He had several messes between my place and the booze store and by the time we got back he was exhausted. I won’t lie, it made it easier when friends came over a little later since he wasn’t completely at his most hyper. But upon arriving home (absolutely drunk) from Big Top Denver, I noticed the smell and then saw the piles on my rug. He had had accidents in the apartment (Aside: This is a dog who has held it for 16 hours, so I know when he does this, there was no way for him to hold it).
The first mistake I made was looking at it, zig zagging over to my window and then opening it, then passing out. I really should have cleaned it up, but I could barely see straight.
OK, flash forward to the familiar sounds of the runs happening. Now picture the hangover I mentioned before and add to it the smell of sick dog poo wafting through the air. If you have a dog, you know what this smell is. It’s different than regular dog poo smell. It’s worse. Now add the fact that Zed gets MORE hyper in the moments before he gets diarrhea in a desperate attempt to get outside to go. So he’s ramming the bed, it smells like poo and he’s putting his stinky dog breath in my face.
Attempt one to get out of bed (at 6:30) fails miserably. The best I could do was take two Excedrin and then lay back down.
Then I heard a new noise. The sound my dog makes when he’s throwing up. I didn’t even look. At this point, I knew the mess I had to clean up was substantial. But then I heard poo sounds again.
I sat up and looked around. More poo on the carpet. AND ON THE HARDWOOD FLOORS! Sonofa. Oh, and the puke was on the floor too. I got up, cleaned up the shit and vom off the hardwood and proceeded to get ready to take the dog out (at 7:30). But not before I threw up several times. I made it into the toilet. Brushed my teeth, gargled some mouthwash, and downstairs we went. It was quick. I didn’t even have the energy to walk.
Between 8 and 10:30, there were two more poo incidents and another puking episode. The last straw was when zed hopped up on the bed to cuddle with me (naturally! He felt bad and he wanted a snuggle). Except he had stepped in some of the shit and tracked poopy paw prints all over my clean sheets.
Mind you, my nausea and vertigo still had not subsided, but I got up and got ready to give the dog a bath.
Now, living in an apartment, the only way to bathe a dog is in the tub. And Zed hates it. So I can’t actually give him a bath, it has to be a shower, which means I have to get in the shower with him to hold him still.
So, here I am at 10:30 on a Sunday morning, soaking wet, squatting and partially bent at the waist trying to hose off a filthy, sick pup who wants nothing to do with the bath I’m trying to give him. Then the worst thing possible happens.
Zed shit in the tub. On my foot.
I don’t know how I didn’t throw up or freak out, but I didn’t. I shit stood there, waiting for the shower to washed the crap down the drain. Then I finished washing and drying the dog. I knew he would get sick again because of how agitated he would be when I let him out of the bathroom, but there was nothing I could do. I let him out and he rain around rubbing his wet fur on any material in the apartment. This includes the bed, the couch and the rug (I had rolled up the poopy part because I knew he would roll in it otherwise and I had decided I had to throw the rug out).
I got back in the shower and scrubbed all the sick dog off me. By the time I got out, there were two new piles. One was crap, the other was a huge pile of water vomit. At this point, I started freaking out, because there was blood in the stool. I had a debate in my head as to whether to take him to the Vet Emergency room or not, but then realized that the blood was likely from a tear after all the messes he’d been having.
I walked the pup and got some hangover food. He had one more mess outside and when we got home he passed out. I tried to feed him rice and chicken broth, but he wouldn’t touch it. This is the sickest my dog has ever been.
However, after about 1, things started to turn a corner and by the evening, he had eaten the food, even though he was still exhausted.
The next morning, as I walked Zed, and saw his morning poops, I did a little victory dance on the side of the road.
It was completely solid.
So, all said and done, I’m out a rug, an entire pack of swiffer wet floor sweepers and two rolls of paper towels. Also, a little bit of my dignity died the moment I got shit on.
But I’ve got my pup back. And he’s just as annoying as ever.
I love that creature.