that. just. happened.
One could argue I just plagiarized but I had to borrow the title of Steve's blog for my latest post. Incidentally, our posts also share a similar theme today: poop. (If you have a moment, go read his post. It's a really funny story...but back to me.)
Before I begin what served as the catalyst for this post, it should be noted that on Saturday morning, 275 Arch st. awoke to find a gremlin, err....small dog, sitting on our neighbor's porch. The creature was actually a Papillon, but from far away, it resembled Gizmo. We left for the outlet malls but by Saturday afternoon, the dog was still sitting in the same place on the porch. I left for Atlanta that afternoon but found out that my roommate, E, ever the dog lover and champion of all dog causes, took in the pup. The poor pup looked like it hadn't had a good meal in weeks and was frightened by us leading us to believe she had been abused. Like any sane person, I freaked out upon hearing the dog was now IN OUR HOUSE not knowing what she could be carrying. E took her to the Humane Society where they checked her out, gave her some treatments, bathed her, and said she was about 6-7 years old, had prior dental work, and had to belong to someone at some point. Well, E decided she was going to take the pup home to Texas this Wednesday so the dog who has no name is staying with us until then.
Initially, I was turned off by the thought but after seeing how poor and pitiful Gizmo was, decided it was ok. She kept to herself, was quiet, appeared housetrained (hint, hint) and didn't bother anyone. Well, then two nights ago she barked her little head off at 1am. Strike 1.
Strike 2: THIS MORNING. I was in the kitchen pouring my second cup of coffee talking to E at the kitchen sink. I put my bare foot down and thought my foot had landed on one of Lucy's chew toys (E's real dog). Oddly enough, the toy felt warm and soft. I might normally think it was a bone Lucy had salivated all over but decided to look down. HIS FOOT WAS IN SHOE. (That's an inside joke but the point is I looked down and BAM. DOG SHITAKE!) My bare right foot was resting on a big, fat piece of warm shitake. I gasped. I gagged. I cried out. I quickly grabbed a wet paper towel, a bottle of dish soap, and began scrubbing furiously like I had never scrubbed before. There were soap suds all over my foot and the floor but I continued to scrub until the bottom of my foot and my toes felt raw.
Strike 2 Gizmo.
Cheers.
Before I begin what served as the catalyst for this post, it should be noted that on Saturday morning, 275 Arch st. awoke to find a gremlin, err....small dog, sitting on our neighbor's porch. The creature was actually a Papillon, but from far away, it resembled Gizmo. We left for the outlet malls but by Saturday afternoon, the dog was still sitting in the same place on the porch. I left for Atlanta that afternoon but found out that my roommate, E, ever the dog lover and champion of all dog causes, took in the pup. The poor pup looked like it hadn't had a good meal in weeks and was frightened by us leading us to believe she had been abused. Like any sane person, I freaked out upon hearing the dog was now IN OUR HOUSE not knowing what she could be carrying. E took her to the Humane Society where they checked her out, gave her some treatments, bathed her, and said she was about 6-7 years old, had prior dental work, and had to belong to someone at some point. Well, E decided she was going to take the pup home to Texas this Wednesday so the dog who has no name is staying with us until then.
Initially, I was turned off by the thought but after seeing how poor and pitiful Gizmo was, decided it was ok. She kept to herself, was quiet, appeared housetrained (hint, hint) and didn't bother anyone. Well, then two nights ago she barked her little head off at 1am. Strike 1.
Strike 2: THIS MORNING. I was in the kitchen pouring my second cup of coffee talking to E at the kitchen sink. I put my bare foot down and thought my foot had landed on one of Lucy's chew toys (E's real dog). Oddly enough, the toy felt warm and soft. I might normally think it was a bone Lucy had salivated all over but decided to look down. HIS FOOT WAS IN SHOE. (That's an inside joke but the point is I looked down and BAM. DOG SHITAKE!) My bare right foot was resting on a big, fat piece of warm shitake. I gasped. I gagged. I cried out. I quickly grabbed a wet paper towel, a bottle of dish soap, and began scrubbing furiously like I had never scrubbed before. There were soap suds all over my foot and the floor but I continued to scrub until the bottom of my foot and my toes felt raw.
Strike 2 Gizmo.
Cheers.
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