She Didn't Mean to Do it and Neither Did I!

Poor Maddie. On Saturday, she stayed in her crate all day. Since I keep Maddie's crate opened and just feed her in there, when Maddie's in her crate, something is wrong. We soon found out what. She began to throw-up Saturday evening...all night...and into Sunday. Since our vet doesn't have weekend hours, we had to take her to the emergency vet.

To the tune of $250 Maddie received IV fluids, anti-nausea medications, and more. We took her home with strict instructions to feed her soft foods for the next few days.

Long story short, Maddie got better. Night before last, she was bugging me to get up and let her out. I told her to lay back down because sometimes Maddie tricks me in hopes of getting a middle-of -the-night treat.

Well, this time, Maddie wasn't tricking. When I got up the next morning there were (not to be gross) seven soft piles of doo doo on the bedroom carpet. The soft diet worked well.

I decided to have my morning coffee before I got to the mess. Chuck was gone, so it wasn't bothering him any. As I sipped my coffee, I thought about ways to clean up Maddie's massive explosions. I noticed a small cardboard box on the kitchen table. I'll just use a trough and shovel the mess into the box I thought to myself. And that's what I did.

Then I threw the entire box into the garbage and got out the Spot Shot to finish the job.

Flash forward to last night. I was meeting with my sister-in-law (who provides bags and bags of crocheted scarves and hats for the homeless) and another friend who actually delivers the items. Anyway, my cell rang. The call went something like this:

Chuck: "Where is the cardboard box that was on the table."
Me: " Why do you need it?"
Chuck: " Because I have to resend it to Pfizer (where he works) tomorrow."
Me: "I dumped everything out of the box and put lots of poop in it."
Chuck: "YOU DID WHAT? That box included a special coded label and a memory stick"
Me: "I didn't see any label or memory stick in the box. All I left in was the bubble wrap."

That was our conversation. I was gone. Chuck was home....up to his elbows sifting through poop coated bubble wrap. Chuck was not happy.

He found his memory stick. He found his special coded label. Maddie's not in the doghouse. I am.

Pfizer's getting a box back that has a very special label on the front. The label has a strange color and new design. Fabreeze took care of the smell I hope. We won't talk about the smears.
Let's just say that Chuck is very creative and I'm sure future Pfizer labels will be designed with his "new look" in mind.

"Someday you'll see the humor in this," I told Chuck.

Chuck didn't laugh.

This is right up there with the time I accidentally gave away all Chuck's good clothes (and dirty underwear) to the Kidney Foundation. That's another story for another time. Suffice it to say I got piles of clothes confused.

HEY! Did you notice that PILES seems to be a common thread in my tales?