Down the Toilet Bowl
March 22, 2005
(Housekeeping note: Do I owe you an email? Damn straight I do. I owe the entire world an email at this point. I'm sorry. I'm very slow and I also very much suck.)
(But wait, there's more: I also owe the world a well-written and totally-not-disgusting entry. This is not that entry.)
My dog fell in the toilet last night.
More accurately, my dog took a flying swan-dive leap into the toilet last night.
A toilet that was, ahem, unflushed.
Dirty. Befouled. Full of pee.
I will not go to the bathroom in front of Jason, but I have no shame in front of my pets, who frequently follow me in because they know they'll have my undivided attention for 30 seconds or so. (Or longer, which then, you know, jackpot!)
Max likes to sit on my lap and Ceiba likes to hop around and play some sort of game that involves me trying to touch her and her trying anything to not get touched. Unless I stop trying to touch her. Then she gets mad and attacks the toilet paper.
(Hello Internet! Welcome to my bathroom! Would you like a magazine? Some quilted two-ply?)
Last night Ceiba got a little too worked up while dashing around the bathroom. She started doing this thing that I cannot ever seem to capture on film or adquately describe. She puts her ears straight back and puts her butt on the ground...and runs around in a circle until she gets dizzy and smacks into a wall. I know. She's insane. And we need a video camera.
It was about at this point that I was finished peeing, and I stood up. And Ceiba jumped right into the toilet.
At first, we were both too surprised to do anything. Ceiba stood there, completely in the toilet, while I just stood there, debating which was more important: pulling the dog out of my urine or pulling up my pants.
I ended up kind of doing both, which wasn't the best move. I held Ceiba in one hand while yanking up my waistband with the other, only to realize that she was DRIPPING WET and SHIIIIT, THAT AIN'T WATER.
So I did the next stupidest thing: I put her in the sink. Where she did not want to stay. And after leaving pee-tainted footprints all over the sink and counter and coming far too close to my toothbrush than I'd really like to think about, she lept off the sink and...
...back into the toilet, which I had not closed. Or FLUSHED.
At this point, the story get s fairly boring(er). Ceiba: bathed. Bathroom: scrubbed. Amy: squicked.
But then, in a subtle act of retaliation, Ceiba peed on the kitchen floor sometime after her bath.
Guess who stepped in it.