Shit.

There's disharmony in the casa del Prego. Two members of the house are at odds with each other and there doesn't appear to be an end in sight. I'm talking, of course, about A and my dog, Bodhi (that's pronounced BO-dee).

A has never been a fan of Bodhi. He has never been OUR dog, he's always been MY dog. A's always had issue with him, primarily because he was a product of my last relationship (my ex bought him for me, though even in that relationship Bodhi was clearly and definitively MINE). He's little and yappy and sheds a lot and he's definitely not your typical "I'm a punk rock guy and this is my killer dog" dog material. But damned if I don't love the little guy, and I love Bodhi even more. *rimshot* Seriously, A's not totally anti-Bodhi -- I've caught him being sweet him to before, and occasionally I'll catch Bodhi perched on A's lap when he's at the computer. He dislikes Bodhi at times but deep down he's a softie.

But it's a volatile relationship at best.

Our biggest issue with Bodhi has been shitting in the house. He's housetrained, and he knows better. That's the problem with papillons -- they're a fiercely, fiercely smart breed. He takes out his frustrations with us by shitting in the house. If he doesn't get his way, he will go over and take a dump somewhere. If we can catch him, we punish him, which has happened a few times, but the majority of the time it is something we don't find until later. And when we do find it and holler at him, he does the whole "Shit, I'm sorry" dog routine. So I know he knows better. It's gotten worse since I've been pregnant. The Dog Whisperer would have a hey-day with it. It's not like we hadn't let him outside in hours or anything. It's a deliberate act on Bodhi's part to get attention.

Most of the time.

The other night A was getting a leftover burger out of the fridge and somewhere in the midst of trying to get a bun out of the bag on top of the fridge, he lost his grip on the burger (a good 1/4 lb. burger, mind you) and it went flying onto the floor. A's a germ freak and was done with the burger in that instant anyway (it isn't anything I wouldn't have rinsed off and nuked in the microwave, but that's me, I'm gross), but in a blink of an eye, Bodhi had grabbed the burger and taken it away to go maul. We were okay with it. But this is a quarter lb. burger and a 6 lb. dog. I figured, shit, we won't have to feed the dog for days at that kind of pace. A pouts about the burger. I make him chicken. Life moves on.

A goes downstairs to the basement (known from now on as "Aland") to play video games for a while. He has this monster-sized tub of peanuts down there and when Bodhi goes down with him, A feeds him peanuts. No matter how many times I have told A to stop feeding him peanuts because he doesn't chew or digest them, he continues to feed Bodhi peanuts. So now, Bodhi has not only eaten 1/24 of his body weight in burger, he's now chock full of peanuts. We go to bed, sleep soundly, Saturday comes...

Okay, I think I've got all the foreshadowing out of the way.

Oh, one more thing in the A-Bodhi struggle. A hates him on the furniture or in bed. Prior to dating/marrying A, Bodhi always slept in bed with me, and when A's not home and I'm lounging in bed like the pregnant orca whale that I am, I usually have Bodhi in bed. He's a cuddler, what can I say? So today after A left for work, I got Bodhi out of his kennel (where he sleeps at night) and brought him back to bed with me. (A pretty typical morning activity for me.) I fell back to sleep watching Arrested Development, and woke up to A coming home. He has the same nasty cold that I have, which has been going around, and since His assistant manager was a worthless piece of shit all week and called in three different days, A decided fuck it, he was going to take the afternoon off and come get some sleep.

That's cool. And I'm glad to have him home where I can pretend to nurse him back to health. (Not in THAT way. I just like feeling helpful. It's a newlywed thing I think.) So I get up and start to make him his tea. In the meantime, I realize something smells like shit. It's not unusual for the septic system to back up during the winter here, especially as cold as it's been, so I ignore the smell. It could've been me farting while I was asleep for all I know. Prego farts are the worst and sometimes I don't even realize they happen til I smell the aftermath. Gross but true. Sorry.

A's excited to be home and as he's telling me about how he completely ripped His assistant manager a new asshole this morning, he does a 4-year-old-style flying leap on the bed. This is the point where I see it on the bed. Not just dog shit. We're talking runny, looks-like-melted-chocolate dog diarrhea. If you could've paused the world for a minute just to see my sights zoom in on the dog shit in the bed, that's what happened. It all happened in slow motion. A's flying in midair toward the bed, I see the shit, and in my head I let out a slow, low-pitched, "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

A landed smack on top of the shit. And it splattered. This wasn't a little bit of shit mind you. A landed in the middle of dog shit quagmire.

Apparently the burger and the peanuts all caught up to Bodhi and he had taken a runny, disgusting shit in the bed while I was asleep. I didn't notice the shit because I'd gotten up so quickly when A got home so as to get Bodhi out of the bed. And because I hadn't expected anyone to be coming through the door at 11 a.m. A's back is covered in dog shit. The bed is covered in dog shit. A is PISSED. He goes chasing after the dog, who goes running under the bed, still leaking, mind you. And you just see big, shit-covered A diving under the bed after this poor little dog who just had really bad indigestion and probably couldn't wake my ass up to get me to let him out.

It was all quite hilarious. You'll never hear me say it around A. But it was hilarious.

So Bodhi is kennel-bound for today (after being let outside for a while to empty out the "tanks"). The sheets are in the washer. And A is freshly-showered and sleeping soundly on a stripped bed.

Welcome to my house.