Adventures from owning the worst dog in the world (1)

After a hearty three hour nap, I woke up at 7:45 PM and proceeded to plan my evening. I made arrangements with some friends and decided I needed a shower because I had been at outside roaming around the bike surplus (see previous posts). I walked up the stairs and, of course, my dog had crapped on the stairs.

[For those who are not a Peyton follower, this is not a rare occurrence but actually quite a regular thing. My dog loves, more than anything in the world, to sh*t on the stairs.]

Because it was at the top on the second step I thought it would be easier to take it to my bathroom, which is upstairs, and flush it rather than carry it down the stairs.

As I went to get some toilet paper, I started the water for my shower. Then, I gathered it all up and dropped in the pot. I flushed, and nothing happened. I flushed a second time; the bowl filled up with water.

I was in a bit of a hurry because I needed to eat before partaking in total shenanigans for the evening and apparently not thinking clearly. I looked around for a plunger, but, being that Nicole and I are classy ladies and never clog the commode, we do not need one thus do not have one. In the trash, there were a couple of toilet paper tubes so I tried to clear the stoppage with those. This did not work. With a swift jerk of the wrist, I stuck my hand in the toilet and punched the t.p. wrapped poop wad down the drain. Needless to say, I'm currently not speaking to my dog.



And yes, I thoroughly disinfected my entire body after this delightful experience.