The Dog Days

In the last couple weeks, Jenny has become THE source of my stress. Bless her, she can't help it (most of it). Warning: most of what you're about to read involves lots of poop.

I came home from work Monday and Jenny had exploded, from her butt. A butt explosion. She was in her crate, and there was canine catastrophe all over her, the crate, the wall... it was bad. I spent the next two hours cleaning the house and cleaning up Jenny. The next afternoon, I took her to the vet to get things figured out. No worms, but he gave me some special food to give her as well as a prescription medicine. She seemed to be getting better, until the weekend. While at my parents house, I noticed a little bit of surprise matter hanging from her nether-regions. A surprise to me, as well as her. Then, in the car on the way home. We pulled into my house in Auburn and I went around back to let Jenny out. Sure enough, there was a little soft-serve left on the rubber mat where she sat. She can't keep the valve closed. And without getting too graphic, I've seen it, it literally doesn't close. (I know, you just shuddered a little. So did I.)

So that's an issue, obviously. Today, it was raining in the morning. I wasn't going to put her out in the rain while I went to work, so it was back in the dreaded cage-o-crap. I felt bad for her all day and actually zipped home at the start of my planning period to let her out. The rain had stopped, so I put her in the kennel in the back yard and went back to work. When I pulled in at 4:00, Jenny came running up, covered in mud, happy as a clam. She had dug out of her kennel. Not a gold star day for the J-bird. Here's the little mud-puppy, realizing the fullness of my disappointment in her.

So I took a trip to Lowe's, bought twenty cinder blocks, filled the hole, and lined the inside of the kennel with them. That oughta hold her (famous last words). Then, after a couple plays of Vikings v. Packers, I made another trip out to Tiger Town. This time, for diapers. Rediculous, I know. But she can't keep her butt closed. "Bottom" line. They say that owning a dog is good training for having kids.

I. Just. Bought. Diapers.

She's making life very difficult for me, her single parent, right now. But, at the end of the day, I love her. No matter how frustrated I am that I have to bathe her AGAIN because she dug out, pooped everywhere, got into mommie's make-up bag, had a little too much fun with the fingerpaints, etc. She's still my girl and I love her, diapers and all.