Don't read unless you enjoy bathroom talk

Guinness had some bouts of diarrhea today when he went out to go potty. In the middle of the afternoon, Karin called to share that Kevin is running a fever. As she was talking, I heard a phliffff and turned to see that Guinness had emitted a huge brown puddle in his crate. I exclaimed, “Guinness has diarrhea! I have to go!” and dropped the phone. The cesspool was at the entrance to the crate, so I started to pull the tray partially out, keeping him in the back where it was clean. I tossed his dirtied toys into Grant’s bathroom sink, a mere three feet away, splattering chocolate drops on the mirror and counter. Then I tried to lift him over the poo pool, but he dropped his hind paws into the mucky mess. I carried him to the door, clutching him to keep my clothes clean. To accomplish unlocking the door, I inadvertently held him close enough to the wall that his dirty paws slimed the textured wallpaper. After clipping him to the cable wound around a tree, I returned inside to mop up the mess. He usually barks continually while tied up, but he was amazingly quiet. He must be sick! The guck had squirted onto the wall beside the crate plus I had created a mess around Grant’s bathroom sink. Grant’s toothbrush went into the trash as a precaution. Once the house and crate were sanitized, I fetched shampoo and a towel to bathe the “widdy boy” outside with the hose. Grant arrived home and sat on a terrace wall to watch. I warned him that his dressy-casual clothing would get wet, but he stayed there anyway. When I released Guinness, he ran under Daddy’s bent legs for loving pats, soaking the back of Daddy’s pantlegs. He topped it off with a healthy shake showering a howling Daddy. Love is very forgiving.