As my days of housesitting come to a close I find myself feeling itchier and itchier. Not because of the fabric softener used on the sheets, or a new kind of soap.
No, I feel itchy because of the dogs.
And I’m not even allergic.
These dogs are the sweetest, happiest, friendliest beasts you can imagine. But the trouble is, they defecate all over the house. All over the house. At first, I thought it was limited to the sitting room, but then I found piles of feces in the bathroom next to the sitting room. And then the living room. And then, finally, the master bathroom, upstairs. If you’ve never had the pleasure of rounding a corner only to be confronted with 5 piles of shit, I do not recommend this experience. (Incidentally, if it’s something you think you may enjoy, please do call me and I’ll give the housesitting gig to you.)
The routine is this: I wake up at 6:30 am, walk downstairs, past the sitting room. I notice several piles of crap. I pick them up. I let the dogs outside, to hopefully evacuate their bladders. While they’re outside, lying down, I fix their food. Then I leave for work. When I come home, I let them out again. This time, they stand in the doorway looking at me as if to say, What are you doing? We poop inside, thank you. I then spend the rest of the evening discovering hidden piles of doodie.
I have asked if the pups can spend their days outdoors, but the answer is no. They are “inside dogs.” Listen: A dog needs it’s freedom! It needs to be able to run, dig, pee and crap where it pleases. Oh, and it needs a patch of grass on which to perform the necessary butt-scoot procedure. Especially if it has long hair, because long hair, as everyone knows, attracts what scientists call “dingleberries.” And the only cure for dingleberries is the butt-scoot procedure.
Guess what?! These dogs have long hair. And no grass. And- joy of joys!- they like to climb onto the bed and hang out. You can probably imagine what this means. Yes, that’s right. It means I really ought to have set up one of those toddler-proof gates at the entrance to the bedroom. Because, while I have never actually found any evidence of fecal matter on my bed, the thought of it really freaks me out. At night, I go to sleep cringing and wake up in the same position, for fear of rolling over onto a patch of contaminated bedding.
After several days of living in that kind of a situation, your whole body begins to feel as though microbes are crawling on it, and it makes you itchy. So, I’m glad to be going home to my apartment. Where, if I feel itchy, I know it’s time to purchase a delousing agent of some kind.
You ought to have them install a floorboard made out of black holes. It might make walking around interesting, but the doodie would go bye bye.
*Jonathan Feldman is not a scientist nor should he be taken seriously in any manner. He takes no responsibility for you stupidly following his directions*
You ought to have them install a floorboard made out of black holes. It might make walking around interesting, but the doodie would go bye bye.
*Jonathan Feldman is not a scientist nor should he be taken seriously in any manner. He takes no responsibility for you stupidly following his directions*
And if you are itchy in your own apartment, I have 2 words for you: DELOUSE FELDMAN