Have you ever tried to make a salad on a counter in a bathroom next to an open toilet that's full of shit? I can now check that off my to-do list.
Aaron recently adopted a puppy. The puppy's name is Slick and he's the smallest labrador I've ever seen. He's been in our household for the past week and a half. Unfortunately, Slick let some worms into his digestive system about a week ago. This caused the poor little guy to take frequent, runny dumps. Aaron kept up at first, running him down the three flights of stairs that lead to the front door and out onto the street. Sure, there were a few accidents, but nothing terrible quite yet.
A week ago today, I got home from work and took a nap. I didn't mean for it to be a long nap because, no matter what, I'm always running late to walk Toby on Thursdays-- Rogers Park to Lincoln Park is an especially long bike ride after working for 7 hours, but a nap usually takes a bit of the edge off, so to speak (obviously). Waking from a light nap and already being aware of my predicament (or time restriction), I ran around my apartment and gathered all the necessities into my backpack. About ready to leave, I walked to the refrigerator, reached in, grabbed an apple (not that I usually refrigerate my apple, but it's the only thing I can think of that would dictate my next move as being towards to sink), then made an awkwardly quick, heel-turn towards the sink when it sunk in... But, for further assurance, I looked back at the floor in front of the 'fridge. Yep. Dog shit. On my shoe, as well as all over the kitchen floor.
Now, if something is even remotely my responsibility, I'll take it in full and rectify a situation. This, I deemed, did not fit under any sort of criterion of which I could be held accountable. I was now running late with one foot in a shoe that smelled like a kitchen that smelled like shit.
I won't detail in depth the process I undertook to clean the shit out of every nook and ridge jutting from the surface of the bottom of my shoe, but it sucked. And the job was rushed. Before leaving, I put a paper towel over each soiled spot on the floor as a heads-up to whoever walked in next.
A few days later I come home to... Well, Aaron made a purchase to remedy the situation. As a metaphorical band-aid, Aaron bought some things that I can only describe as floor-diapers. Giant floor-diapers, that is. Essentially, these are mats designed to be pissed and shit on, but the only real aspect of the design that seems conducive to such treatment is the fact that it's disposable. Otherwise, it isn't particularly absorbent and it does nothing to mask the smell.
A few days ago, Aaron and Slick went to a veterinarian and procured pills to fight the existence of those worms that have been squatting in Slick's digestive tracts.
UPDATE: Slick is taking solid dumps.
Remember last paragraph when I used the words "remedy" and "band-aid"? "Remedy" is a permanent fix and "band-aid" implies something temporary. Well, if the last few days have been any indication, the floor-diapers are more of a remedy than a band-aid.
Two days ago, Aaron jokingly said something like, "Well, I guess I can start walking Slick again." This is fucked up for a few reasons: first of all, why would you stop walking a dog? Maybe cats enjoy an endless routine of wandering around an apartment all day and night, but a dog isn't a cat. Unlike any cat I've ever known, Slick is usually confined to a crate... I'll say 75% of the time. 80% of the time not spent in his crate is spent in the kitchen. That leaves, what, 5% of the time that he's free to roam (which, in this case, means he gets to hang out in the living room or on Aaron's bed)? I don't think it's a stretch to say that Slick has pissed and/or shat his cage. 5% outside of the vicinity of his own feces? That's bad.
This whole situation is kind of frustrating because I don't want to tell people how to do things. I'm saving all that energy in case I have a kid. Does a 22 year-old dude really need to be told that a dog shouldn't be holed up in an apartment all day?
Fine. Fuck it. I'll take care of the damn dog.
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