Brandice Says

Jim went to the store, and I was reading a book, cozy in my bed, oblivious to the fact that my little dingo (aka tiny rescue dog aka my own personal shadow, Baxter) had disappeared inexplicably.

Where had he gone?

Well, before I tell you that, you’ll need to know that my demonic feline, Pepe, had chosen to become miffed about some unknown circumstance in her put-upon life and had also chosen to shit on the floor in the hallway in a big, regal pile. A REGAL PILE.

Did I mention that Baxter has a sick fascination with eating disgusting things, and his favorite of those things is cat feces, full of rich and delicious cat food that he is forbidden to eat? Oh, well he does. No big deal, because we keep the litterbox and the cat food hidden from his little dingo eyes… until the cat decides to give him a snack, which is what Baxter interprets the cat’s bowel-related temper tantrums to be… tiny little piles of delicious heaven upon which dingos are meant to snack. NOMZ, RIGHT?

So, just as I am catching a whiff of the delightful smell of my demonic feline’s hallway present, I see Baxter hop clumsily onto the bed, wearing a mournful look on his face. I look at my little dingo and just as I’m about to ask him what’s wrong (because that’s always helpful to do with nonverbal animals), he begins to convulse in a suspiciously pre-vomit-like manner.

I react quickly, trying to urge him off the bed onto the much more cleanable hardwood floor, so he is unfortunately scooting down the edge of the bed AS HE BEGINS TO VOMIT a long, large pile of what looks like marshmallow fluff mixed with rotted ground beef.

The sounds I emitted and the look of horror on my face as he set both of his front paws in the digusting vomit train that was still ATTACHED TO HIS MOUTH are not for the faint of heart, so it’s probably good that Jim wasn’t home and no cameras were present.

Here is where I really began to handle things like a pro, guys, so you’re going to want to get out a notebook and a pen and copy down this list of things to do when your dog eats your cat’s shit and then pukes it all over your bed. It’s important that you do it in this order, or it won’t come out right:

1. Be sure to stand and wail helplessly with your arms alternately pointing at the dog’s feet and then the vomit train and then the feet again.

2. Pick your dog’s paw up so that they aren’t on the bed any long, then realize that there is no safe to put said paws and then put them on a CLEAN area on the sheets and then start wailing about that as the dog jumps of the bed, streaking the marshamallow fluff behind him in his wake.

3. Pull yourself together and then run to find your dog. You will find him in his crate, having recently vomited again. He will be standing in one new pile of puke while eating the third pile of the night. Don’t be surprised if you start to make terrible wailing noises again as you somehow scare the poor dog out into the yard, where you can be sure he won’t get into anymore trouble and will totally puke on the grass now. (This is totally NOT what will happen.)

4. Get a serving spoon and a tupperware container with which to pick up all the puke and dispose of it, and then gather the original pile of beef fluff in your container. Continue to wail helplessly through this process. Do not be surprised if you begin to gag and retch as you wail. Remember how the only thing that truly grosses you out to the point of retching is vomit? Oh, you forgot? Well, you’ll remember right about now.

5. Get a big ol’ whiff of your tupperware container as you are dumping the vomit into the toilet to flush it from your memory and realize that DOG-VOMITED CAT FECES IS THE GROSSEST SMELL YOU HAVE EVER SMELLED IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE.

6. Vomit on top of the mess already in the toilet and then dry heave as you frantically flush all of it away to avoid a never-ending cycle of smells-vomit-seeing-vomit-smells-dry-heaving. This is the part where it’s good to start thinking about crying and laughing simultaneously, because that part is coming up soon.

7. Check the crate, but decide to leave that alone for now since the sight of more vomit has you wretching again.

8. Go out to check on the little dingo and pray that he has ceased vomiting, because HOW COULD HE HAVE ANY MORE VOMIT IN HIM ANYWAY? Discover that he opted not to remain in the grass and is puking all over your deck glider and trying to eat it before you find him.

9. This is the part where you begin to wail and cry and laugh all at the same time, because you won’t be able to determine if you’re having the funniest night ever or the worst night of your entire pet-owning life. Be sure to call your husband frantically right at this moment and ask him when he’s going to be coming home because “there is a puke apocalypse in the house” and you are “slightly hysterical.” He will barely understand what you’re saying so he won’t make fun of you for saying “puke apocalypse” later. You hope. (You’ll be wrong.)

10. Get the hose out and hose the puke off of the dog and the glider and the deck from several feet away, because it’s all that you can handle doing anymore, at least until your husband comes home and can calm everyone down.

I’m not putting “find little puke paw prints all over your house afterward” on the list because I want that part to be a surprise, LIKE IT WAS FOR ME.

So, anyway, that’s what I did this evening. No big deal. Just another day in the Schnabel household… cat shit, dog vomit, people vomit, cry-laughing, apocalyptic phone calls and discovering I’m not that great in vomit-related crises.

A million thanks to this little weirdo: