Friday, March 03, 2006

The Dog May Die

Mitch had a bad morning. We've been confining him with the other two dogs in the kitchen during days when The Wife has to work as a sub para-teacher at one of the schools. Today I went home over lunch to let the dogs out, and it looked like he had eaten everything and then excreted it all over the floor.

This is not how I had pictured my lunchtime going down.

So 20 minutes of traveling home and back, half an hour to pick up all the splinters of the throughly eaten wooden napkin holder, vacuum, break out the odoban (which ran out in the middle) and Resolve, scrub, and vacuum again while taking periodic breaks to open the patio door and scream obscenities at the dog. During these intervals of madness, Mitch looked at me as if to say "what, me?" while the other two seemed to wonder what the hell I was on about this time.

I called The Wife to warn her that she may come home to find Mitch munching on a chunk of countertop when she gets home, and fled. Life is less aggravating when I'm dealing with difficult clients and trying for 10 hours straight to find a bug in a program that turns out to be a single misplaced character in 100,000 lines of code.

Tonight: we begin a weekend of respite care for the two small ones we will be taking care of one weekend a month. That ought to be fun. more later.


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