I was exhausted with all the last-minute Christmas baking and wrapping. I headed to bed early. Puppy chose to sleep in her crate, rather than in the bed with me. I let her, fell into bed and fast asleep, with visions of sugarplums and happy family dancing in my head.
At 11:45, I awoke. Maybe I heard Santa on the rooftop. I got up and went to the bathroom, and when I came out…I smelled…a stench. Precious Puppy wiggled toward me out of the shadows. I did not see any Santa or stardust.
I followed the smell, wasn’t hard, to my office. Turned on the light. Oh, what to my wondering eyes? My Lord in Heaven.
Puppy had had diarrhea.
And not in one spot. She had traveled around over a fourth of the room’s carpet. The sort that splattered. Onto a box of books. It was bad.
After a full minute of looking in horror, I took a calm breath. I locked Puppy in her crate—no scolding. She is a baby and could not help it. I tiptoed downstairs, not wanting to wake up dear demented Mama and have to explain what happened, two or three or more times. From the kitchen I retrieved the mess-cleaning bucket, paper towels, and spray carpet cleaner, then tiptoed back up to clean as I could, which wasn’t very well. I succeeded more in smearing the mess.
Ah, low and behold a new Hoover rug shampooer had been delivered two days before. It sat in the box at the foot of the stairs, as if Someone had known I would need it before Christmas morning. Moving as quietly as possible again up and down stairs, I hauled it up and put it together. Those thoughtful Hoover people had supplied a bottle of rug shampoo— Merry Christmas!
I closed the door, hoping the noise would not wake dear Mama (and necessitate a lot of lost energy in explanation and calming), and figured out how to get the shampooer to work. Easy! First passes made a start. Stopped. Opened the door. Listened. No sound from dear Mama or precious Puppy. All was well. Closed the door.
I shampooed that section of carpet. Three times I emptied and refilled the appliance containers. Wow, that Hoover shampooer worked great! It gets 5 stars!
One hour and forty-five minutes after it all began, precious Puppy and demented Mama both tucked peacefully in their beds, I crawled back into mine, thinking: Merry Christmas to all, and to All a Good Night!
I must sure love that dog, and my mother.