This past Sunday I was driving through my hometown about an hour and a half outside of the city I currently live in, and took a short cut to get to my destination. This particular short cut is a dirt road that weaves through the woods and country fields- the max speed I’ve ever gone on it is a whopping 30mph. It’s very remote and is exceptionally rare to pass anyone on it, and for that reason, it’s also incredibly beautiful.
I was driving along and noticed a small turtle in the middle of the road. I stopped my car, got out, picked the turtle up and moved it to the other side of the road. As I turned around to head back to my car, I noticed something else in the middle of the road about 10 feet in front of me. I walked a little closer and to my surprise, it was a young golden retriever.
No need to be worried, it was alive and well. It was stretched out in a mud puddle, wagging its tail and when I called to it, it came bounding over to me. Even dirty and muddy, you could tell this dog had been away from home for a while. It didn’t have a collar, and was pretty skinny; its ribs were visible through its coat.
Deciding that I couldn’t just leave it there, I opened up the back of my car (I drive an SUV, luckily I had room in the trunk for it) and it hopped right in.
After posting its picture on Facebook with a ‘missing dog’ description, I called the local animal rescue groups. All were either at capacity or advertised very openly that they put down animals that they weren’t able to adopt quickly.
The dog was beautiful, friendly and sweet and after spending a little bit of time with it I knew I couldn’t send it to a shelter. After talking to a few friends in the city, they insisted I had to take it back with me and if worst came to worst they would foster it while we attempted to find it a home. On the drive back to the city I had even started contemplating the possibility of keeping the dog for myself, and envisioned us going on runs together, to the river, and having lazy movie nights were we cuddled and fell in love.
All of those were very sweet thoughts, but they only lasted another 18 hours.
I woke up around 7am the next morning and had multiple missed calls and texts from my roommates. As my mind began to focus and my senses began to wake up- I began to smell something awful. I looked at my first text and read,
“Sky, there was a doggie explosion…”
Dear God, I thought as I got out of bed and headed towards the door.
My house has three floors. The first is completely hardwood. The second (where my bedroom is) is carpet and the third is made up entirely of one of my roommate’s rooms. When I had left the dog to head to bed, she had been fast asleep downstairs on the hardwood floor- the exact same place she’d been since she’d entered my home.
As I opened my bedroom door, I have never been so quickly engulfed by so many different emotions.
The first: shock
The second: absolute horror
The third: confusion
The fourth: fear
The fifth: rage
The dog had wandered up my stairs somewhere between 1a-6a and had horrible diarrhea starting at the top of our carpeted stairs, down the hall and ending directly in front of my bedroom door. My first question: why God, oh why couldn’t the dog have done this on the hardwood floors? Why climb the stairs for the first time just to soil our carpets?
I have never seen a more catastrophic scene come from one dog in my life.
I feel obliged to mention that the color of our carpet is a creamy beige color, and also that our lease ends in one month and all three of us are moving out; meaning that our landlord has periodically been bringing tours through. We also are not allowed to have pets.
As I stood there, in the opening of my doorway, looking at the scene in front of me, suddenly one overwhelming feeling filled me… Defeat. I couldn’t even comprehend the first step towards cleaning all of it up, let alone getting the stains out.
A long (and horribly smelly) story short, two hours later I had removed all of the fecal matter from our floor and was left with multiple wet spots and a very pungent hallway.
I would like to thank Google, for being there when I needed it most and providing me with many different home remedy articles for handling pet stains, and my sister –the mother of an infant and a toddler- for suggesting different ways to remove poop from places you would not normally expect it to be. Without their combined help, I’m not sure I would’ve come out the winner of that battle.
What happened to the dog, you might be wondering? I brought her back to the dirt road I found her on.
Kidding! Chill out, PETA.
Remember those friends who had insisted that I needed to bring the dog with me to the city? Well, I called them after discovering the scene and their responses to me went along the lines of, “it’s early,” “we’re having a hard time getting out of bed,” and “are you sure you aren’t just being overdramatic?”
After sending them pictures of the mess and reenacting a scene pretty damn similar to this one:
They quickly came over, took the dog and became the new foster parents of it.
I’m happy to report that they have since then become the official new adopted parents of her as well. They are happy to report that she hasn’t had any accidents in their home…
Have any funny pet horror stories of your own? Share them in the comments!
|Sky Andersen holds down the role of blog writer at Yoga Accessories. Currently studying Public Relations at Virginia Commonwealth University, she writes for many different publications and is passionate about all things photography, travel and of course- yoga.|