Adventures in Babysitting

I think this was the movie with Elizabeth Shue. I forget if it was before or after The Karate Kid. In the movie, she slides down a big, tall building. Apparently, that's the old Smurfit-Stone building, which is the company I used to work for. Except I didn't actually work in that building. Whatever. If you've ever been in our house back in Bolingbrook, USA, you would probably have been completely disgusted. What should have been white carpet was actually yellow, with some white. Why? Because the dummies (the loving nickname we've given the Dogs from Satan) had a contest to see who could pee more throughout the house. It wasn't only on the carpet tho. Oh no, they did the pillars, the tile, the walls, Sandy's beloved shag rug. They're not completely bad tho. In case Sandy accidentally became pregnant, they wanted to make sure the baby didn't run into any sharp corners. So they thoughtfully chewed off every sharp corner in the entire house. This is not easy to do, especially when you get your butt spanked raw after each occurrence. That's perseverance and dedication of the highest degree! Anyways, the house by the time we moved out. Sad thing is, we didn't bother to clean the carpets before we left...which may explain why we haven't rented the place out yet. Anyways. So as we'd buy furniture and rugs for our new home in Bermuda, we agreed that, under no condition, would we allow our new paradise to be spoiled by the dummies. I don't care if my palm bleeds from spankings, we will not have this house desecrated.

The first couple days in Bermuda, we stay at a hotel. Dummies decide the place isn't nasty enough, so they proceed to pee and poop. No big deal, we don't live here. We move into our new house, piss on the tile. At least there's no carpeting. Couple days later, I'm walking around with my sandals on. I notice brown spots trailing me. Oh no that isn't! Oh yes it is. Turns out one of the dummies pooped right by the bed. And I didn't find out until I was in the kitchen, which is essentially the opposite end of the house. So I spend about an hour on my hands and knees, nose to the floor, sniffin for poop to wipe up.

The locksmith comes to put in new locks. The maintenance guy is here too, going over some stuff. I figure I'd let the dogs run around a bit. A lil while later, I notice a big pool of yellow goodness right by the front door. This means that, more than likely, both the locksmith and the maintenance guy saw it. "Oh, our dogs are house-broken, you won't need to worry about that." Sweet. Just last night, I was walking around, making sure all the doors are closed. I try not to turn on the lights since electric bills are supposedly as much as car payments. I start walking, and feel some wetness. I don't need to sniff my foot, but I do anyways cuz...why not? So I gotta crawl on my hands and knees to the bathroom cuz I don't want to do the ol' Hansel and Gretel thing again.

We've been in our new house for over a week now. If memory serves me right, they've peed at least 6 times and pooped twice. That's more than once a day. At least it keeps me busy. And now, whenever I walk in the house, I have to remind myself to look down as I walk. I call them dummies, but they're actually extremely intelligent. How else am I the only one that steps in their gifts? I'm convinced they analyze my steps and movements throughout the house and compare them to that of Sandy's. It makes sense that they'd absorb some of that expectancy/probability ratio nonsense that Sandy's always studying about since they're always laying next to her when she studies. There is absolutely NO WAY it's a coincidence that Sandy's feet have never been soiled.

Saddest part about my life is that it's not even safe when they do their business outside! Being that it's a rental property, we try and pick up after them whenever possible. By "we", of course I mean me. Working women don't have time to deal with that nonsense. Sometimes I'll be too lazy to go inside and grab a plastic bag or paper towel, so I'll create chopsticks out of twigs or leaves, pick up the poop and chuck it down the hill and into the bushes. Some chopsticks are stronger than others. Sometimes my throws won't go very far. Far enough, or so I thought. Today, as I was letting the dummies out, Rocky starts sniffing the grass like he always does. No biggie. He starts rolling around in a patch of grass. Again, no biggie. He does it all the time. After about 5 minutes of rolling around, he finally comes back. I notice some black stuff on the side of his face. Prolly a lil stick or something. Am I ever that lucky? Of course it's poop. WHO THE HELL ROLLS AROUND IN POOP?! You're not a freaking pig! You're supposed to be a prissy, I don't like to get dirty dog! WHY!? To make my life miserable, that's why. Plain and simple. I tried to be lazy and just cut it off with scissors, but it ended up looking like a really bad haircut, kinda like I used to do Cam, except Rocky didn't cry and say I ruined his life and proceed to shave all the hair off his head. To this day, he still shaves his head. Cam that is. I'm still trying to figure out if this is something I can somehow take credit for.