I’m not sure if there is a more upsetting experience than walking in through your front door and smelling poo.  If you have a dog and you get that first whiff of an accident, you immediately know that there is a pile of crap lying somewhere in your house in a place where it shouldn’t be.  You hope that it’s piled neatly on the linoleum or perhaps some hard, flat surface.  But rarely is this the case.  Usually, it is in a totally unacceptable place like on your pillow or on your nipple clamps.  So, instead of relaxing at home after a long, hard day at work, you’re cleaning up poo.  And after you’ve scrubbed/sprayed/napalmed the area, you have to go and yell at your dog, all while your house now smells like some random Glade plug-in.

Sometimes, I wonder if the cats poo and then blame on it on the dog.  They’ve been trying to get her put out for some time now.   This is my life.  I pray for the sweet release of death.