The temperature was dropping last night, so I made sure that the dogs got a trip outside quite late, about 11 pm, so that I could close all the doggy doors to maintain coziness in the kennel building overnight.
The majority of dogs are well house-trained and well-adjusted and in good health. They are usually quite comfortable for the amount of time between lights-out and the early hour that I greet them in the morning.
Today when I went out to check on the guests, I could tell immediately that I had a mess to clean up. One small dog had left a tidy little pile, but in a different run, the large, senior German Shepherd had had a bout of loose stool overnight. He and a younger shepherd from the same home had run back and forth through the messes and over all the bedding. Gagging, I let the two big dogs outside and closed the door.
What could I do but go into a sort of dissociative state? I put down some absorbent, disposable pads on top of the lakes of excrement. I let each of the other dogs outside and fed those who get morning feedings. And then, believe it or not, I washed my hands and went to the house for breakfast.
I dealt with the dreadful mess after that. The work was onerous, but this kind of thing is occasionally going to be part of a pet business. I do wish I had built a building with drains, but using the “piddle pads” was a good move.
The dog isn’t sick. Kelef is a highly strung dog with a history of occasional intestinal trouble; I should have known. He will be okay, and so will I.
Later in the day, I groomed Lacey, a poodle x sheepdog. I enjoyed the work, and Lacey was as good as gold. Sam was especially interested in keeping this one company.
Before Taffi went home, I shampooed the dog and trimmed her nails.
Poor little old McKenna has a problem with incontinence, mainly urinary. I had been meaning to give her a bath, but had been dreading it because she dreads this kind of handling. We got through it, and then she frolicked about in the snow before coming into the warm house to rest. One of the benefits she enjoys after enduring her nails and furry feet getting trimmed, is that she is more surefooted on our tile floors.
Yesterday at Sunday breakfast, one of the many topics of conversation was “tourtière”. I had a plan already for dinner that night, but today I thought I would make some version of tourtière. Some Frenchman might be highly offended (because one is supposed to SLAVE for hours over the dish), but I got the idea to pile the ingredients into the small crockpot.
Then, as if that wasn’t lazy enough, I decided I didn’t want to put the meat mixture in pie crust, so I Googled, “Impossible Meat Pie”. Remember all of the “impossible pies” of the eighties? There indeed IS such a thing as impossible meat pie … makes its own crust as it bakes. I’m going to try it. It’s almost time.
I didn’t take a huge bite from the entrée, it’s just the way it cooked.
So, I can discuss horrible dog diarrhea and delicious supper surprises in the same post. That’s just how I roll!
Love you for reading my blog. Hope your day was pleasant.
p.s. The tourtiére turned out very well, in my humble opinion.
And here’s a picture of Carly, a loving and sweet pitbull cross.
And Sam in the sunlight: