up to our ears in it

Today was a crazy one. I woke up at 5:45 am to one of the dogs barking downstairs. Stumbling down to the first floor, I was hit with a stench so vile it made my toes curl. Abbie greeted me at the bottom of the stairs begging to go out. I checked on Cooper, but he was curled up on the sofa with his nose buried under his back leg. And then I noticed the huge pile of poop on the kitchen floor. Why does stuff like this always happen in the middle of the night, when all I want is a few hours of blessed, uninterrupted sleep? Maizy was crouched in the corner, making another pile.

I scooped her up and carried her to the litter box in the basement, and cleaned up the mess with one hand, while I held my nose with the other. After disinfecting the entire floor, I barricaded her in the room with a litter box so she couldn't go anywhere else. (like on the new rug in the living room.)

I dragged my now-nauseous self back up the stairs to bed and burrowed under the covers, trying to forget the stench, but I swore I could still smell poop. Thirty seconds later, Mr. Chubbs jumped on the bed, and settled down next to me. I couldn't stand it. I had to check to see if I had any on me from cleaning up. I booted him off the bed and checked my pajamas, and finding them poop free, I shut the cat out of our bedroom and went back to sleep. When Dave got up he found fresh piles all over the floor in the kitchen, and after picking them up, he thoughtfully sprayed the spots with disinfectant and covered them with paper towels. That's the state the kitchen was in when I got up...and lest you think that was the end of it, it wasn't. We soon discovered that the poopy bouquet I detected in bed had emanated from Mr. Chubb's furry behind. He, too, was in apparent gastric distress, but unlike Maizy, he wasn't confined to one room. On the contrary, he spread little bits on our comforter and upholstered chair, on the bath mats, the bathroom floor, our bedroom rug, on the stairs, (which I of course, stepped in) everywhere but his litter box...after catching him and carting his poopy ass to the sink downstairs, we managed to hose him off and shampoo him back to his sweet smelling self.

I would have taken pictures if I could have, (because there's nothing better looking than a half-drowned cat) but it took all four hands just to keep him from clawing us to death while we washed him...on the bright side, there are fresh sheets on the bed, and the whole house is cleaner than it's been in months.

It's a good thing I'm an optimist.

For more stories about crazy things we do for love, hop over to San Diego Momma's place for the latest Prompt Tuesday...