Yesterday's "What Have I Done to Deserve This" Moment

After yesterday morning's drizzly, gooey start, the sun decided to peak out late that afternoon. So out we go - front yard... took down some Christmas lights, chatted with neighbors, helped Maggie push her "car" around the driveway. Back yard... clean up dog shit. I swear to god you'd think we had ten dogs instead of two. I have never seen so much crap before in my life. There was poop every two feet throughout the entire yard. Thus begins my "What have I done to deserve this" moment.

Maggie and I went down to the yard to begin cleaning up the wasteland and I decided to leave the dogs on the deck. You see, everyone in the entire neighborhood was out for a stroll in the nice weather and Payton was in full defense mode. If I had let them down to the yard they would have ran along the (muddy) (disgusting) fence line harassing everyone.

We had made a very minor dent by filling up two grocery bags full of poop when Payton's nemesis, the German Shepard from the cul-du-sac, walked by with his owner. Al of sudden all hell breaks loose on the deck. Payton foolishly decides to take out his frustration on Steve (who is four times her size) and Steve, aka Big Pussy, decides today is the day he fights back... and I am screaming like an idiot from below to get them to stop brawling.

They eventually stop, I continue to fill the bags, realize I accidentally touched poop, and call an end to outside time. I drag Maggie up the stairs and am greeted by Payton dripping in blood, her entire head and legs bright red. And Steve, cowering by the door with his own fair share of the red stuff. Oh. My. God.

I hustled everyone inside and wasn't sure who to inspect first, but then Payton shook her head and splattered blood all over the wall, all over me, and all over Maggie. So I shoved everyone into the laundry room and gently started wiping fur trying to figure out who was actually hurt and who deserved to be hurt.

Steve looked so pathetic, I took the towel to him and said "It's OK Buddy," and Maggie helped by gently patting his back and repeating those words over and over again. Not a scratch on him, the blood was Payton's. Maggie wasn't so sympathetic with Payton. After a cursory inspection we decided she seemed to only have a cut on her ear, but we had to get her in the bath to make sure (besides the blood, she was covered in mud). Maggie watched me wash Payton for about thirty seconds, decided to try and help by using her orange garden shovel to try and rinse Payton off, thus scaring the crap out of Payton, then she decided it was time to brush her teeth and wandered off. Payton's ear was the only injury. I put two bandaids on it. And it's totally fine.

So now that the dogs aren't dying, I had the pleasure of wiping blood off the floor, the walls, the washing machine, the dryer, the patio door, myself, and Maggie. Oh, and cleaning the poop off of two pairs of shoes.

Shit and blood... just how I imagined I would spend the first nice afternoon of the spring. I love my life, I love my life, I love my life (curled up, rocking, in the fetal position).