The worst day of my life was the day K-Dubs ripped up the carpet at the foot of my stairs. Sure, she was a teething puppy, but I was certain that she should know better. And then she threw it up. All over the place. Yellow, runny fuzz was dispersed throughout my downstairs area. I was disgusted and livid.
Then she pooped in my house.
You know, I used to think that there was nothing worst than poop on the floor in my house. Then I was exposed to doggy diarrhea. I tell you, I was so elated to see regular poop on the floor again because it didn't involve rubber gloves, paper towels, rags, and a bucket of scorchingly hot, soapy water that I could have hugged her just for feeling better.
Not to say that I wanted or would allow her to continue pooping in my house but I had come to terms that things could definitely be worst. Much, much worst. Over the years, I have managed to break Klea of many things (except her constant need for petting and attention - but I think that's just her thing).
Ginger on the other hand was never broken. To this day she still does whatever the eff she wants. You can take it or leave it. And living with me these last two years hasn't broken her of her bad habits and Klea only tries them once in a blue moon so I've not been too terribly hard on her. But all that's about to change.
Last night as I relaxed on my couch, I smelled poo. It was volatile with the way it attacked my nostrils. I searched the apartment high and low, under tables, moving boxes trying to find this horrible stench. It wasnt until I went to check under doggy tails that I realized the stench was coming from Ginger. More specifically, her mouth.
I ran and threw up.
They get walked at least 3 times a day. She's not malnourished. She's not underfed. The very expensive food that they eat is because of Ginger's very delicate stomach and her allergic reaction to corn. So, I have deduced that this is just her way of winning. Again.
This is her "Aha, Bitch". Because she knows that if I find poop on the floor, she will spend some quality time in her crate.
No evidence, no crime.
Well, someone told her wrong because we've got a whole different kind of battle on our hands.