A treasure hunt

Wouldn't it be nice to wake up to the smell of fresh brewed coffee and cooking bacon, or perhaps a sweet ocean breeze blowing through the window? I can think of many smells I like to wake to. Dog shit* is not on the top of the list.

My husband, like most of us, enjoys sharing his suffering with others. So, immediately upon waking he started crying out, "What is that smell?! It smells like poop!" Well, no surprise here, it was. Gus has been sleeping in the house for about a month now without an incident. He made up for it last night. He pooped in seven places. He was a thoughtful dog though. In a house with a myriad of solid surfaces (linoleum, tile, laminate flooring) he chose to drop his piles exclusively on the rugs. He also released what we have deemed Lake Gus, on another rug (one which had mercifully been spared the poo).

Titus had cleaned up all the piles before I got downstairs, but he had to go to work before he could scrub the carpet, so I was on a treasure hunt this morning. I suspiciously eyed each flowery leaf on our rug, questioning whether it held clods of poo. I knew there were 7 spots so I was bound to find one just about everywhere. I sprayed and I scrubbed, and all I can do is hope that those little enzymes go to work and our house does not continue to smell of dog excrement until the end of time.

(PS this is a picture of Gus out for the boys underwear. Gus eats poo, the boys, his own, any he can get to. If we left him long enough he would have cleaned up the rugs)

*My sister, the nurse, taught me the only appropriate time to use vular lauguage such as this is in cases requiring such vulgarity. She worked in a nursing home for the elderly.

Speaking of which, I better go. Joe just informed me that Judah pooped in his underwear.