For some reason I had decided it would be a fantastic idea to bring home a litter of puppies to foster for a night or two. It seemed so effortless. I would put them in the tub for a quick wash, set up a few training pee pee pads, trash them when soiled, and the kids get to play all weekend with puppies that we are not obligated to keep. Seemed is the key word here. I arrived home with the puppies after a quick stop at Walmart for a bag of puppy food, but then some how toys, pads, a water dish, baby gate, and a dog bed got in my cart too. A rather suspicious, unpleasant odor was coming from the carrier where the puppies whimpered, and as I walked into the house my husband greeted me with a scowl, leading me over to the laundry room where it seems Lilly (see earlier blog) had broken off the knob on our $700 dryer to get at a bag of opened treats I had left out. It seems same $700 dryer (the price of which I still have not recovered from) is all held together with the flimzyist plastic, and can only be repaired by a $650 service call.
My kids were at a friends' house when I arrived, so I soaped them all up, rinsed them, dried them, and left them sleeping on a blanket. By then I was exhausted, but my two kids rushed in the front door yelling, "Did you get them, did you get them?" So they went into the bathroom and started playing with them, while I got out some food. They had already been fed, but when I picked them up from the shelter I noticed their two dishes of food had basically not been touched, so I thought I'd give it a try. The four pups attacked the food, trying to shove their faces simultaneously in the too small dish, and spilling the food everywhere. Then the pooping began, and as they charged the food, the neatly arranged training pads were crumpled up while I madly tried to replace them in time. Then I found myself trying to coordinate the two kids, the four puppies, and the piles of rapidly appearing poop from all mixing into one. Finally all the pups were asleep again, my kids were getting ready for bed, and the bathroom was clean.
Next morning as I came down, my oldest daughter behind me, a stench came up to greet us, growing stronger as we approached the bathroom. I cringed as I saw poop everywhere. The pups had been tugging at the pads and only 50% of the mess was on them, while the rest was on the floor. Here I go again, I thought, so I put the pups in the tub, cleaned up the pads, and started cleaning up the poop with toilet paper, wiped it again with paper towels, and then bleached the floor. All while my daughter made gagging noises behind me until I sent her away so I could stomach the mess myself. Next I put a load of wash in of the used towels and blanket, thankfully the dryer still works but now only on one setting. I could go on and on of this repeating cycle, but I think you got the picture.
Anyway, the experience is still unfolding, and I remember very clearly now why I never wanted a puppy again. They are precious, but crazy, crazy work for about a year. I see "I told you so," in my husband's eyes every time our gaze meets.