As
this video and
this one go viral, and Kerrcarto posts
sweet photos of his dog, mine leave another carpet gift for me.
I will spare you photos, mostly because I was in such an epic battle to overcome my gag reflex that I didn't take any. It did occur to me at one point, that I needed to document this epic instance of dog vomitus, but I was gloved up and elbow deep in it by that time.
I am not sure which dog to blame...I heard the retching and found both looking guilty and in the vicinity.
At first, I guessed that the dogs had somehow gotten into some trash and thought I was looking at regurgitated pasta of some sort. It was very dark and thick, though, warranting closer inspection. I saw a green-brown pattern of sorts mixed among the many long, round, noodle-shaped pieces. I then decided I was dealing with a nest of young snakes that had met at early demise by canine. It smelled really bad. Really. Bad.
I pilfered a couple of gloves out of my son's Boy Scout First Aid kit, got out the steam cleaner and filled up the water reservoir so it could heat up while I worked on the debris field, grabbed a new roll of paper towels and a triple grocery bag set-up.
The first handful yielded large pieces of something that seemed to be plastic. They were pretty hard and obviously didn't chew up very well. I went back to thinking this was a dumpster-diving foray.
The second handful did me in.
What I had alternately thought to be small snakes or pasta turned out to be intestines. Lots of them tangled around the neck and head of, what used to be, a rather large turtle. There was no end to them, and it required both hands to gather up the errant strands and get them into the trash bag. Gag. The 'plastic' pieces, upon closer inspection, were the
scutes of the plastron - pieces of the underbelly. Ugh.
By this time I was cussing; loud, severe, make-a-sailor-blush, swearing. I cussed dogs, turtles, the failures of Scotchguard, the smell of turtle and dog bile, my construction contractor and the absence of any other family members to share in the horror and disgust of the task at hand.
Gus and/or Woody seemed to be instantly recovered but there is still a faint turtle blood/bile/innard stain on my dining room carpet that serves as a constant reminder and a constant cleaning task. Carpet that wouldn't even be there had my builder gotten the hardwood installed like he was supposed to (hence his inclusion in the cussing fit). Needless to say, I can't look at turtles or pasta anytime soon. For some crazy reason we are thinking of getting another dog and a cat right after Christmas...someone talk me off the ledge.