Growing up we had a little silky terrier named Pippy. From the get go, we all had a love/hate relationship with her. We loved her until she yapped, stole our underwear, or asked to go out at an inconvenient time and then we resented her.
One Christmas Eve we came home from the evening church service to find that Pippy had pooped and wiped her butt (bottom if Mom's reading this) all over the living room carpet. To say my dad was livid was an understatement. We all sat on the couches waiting to open our one present of the night while my dad crawled around on his hands and knees scrubbing at the racing stripes everywhere. We may have stifled giggles until my dad shot us the look of death.
This year Pippy died at the ripe age of 16. Cole only knew her for 4 months but apparently Pippy shared some age old wisdom with her.
Our house has been the house of death this week with Fin being sick for the last 4 days and now Cole has it. This morning, hungover with sleep deprivation, I stripped Cole naked to hopefully cool down his fever and went in the other room for a second to make a phone call. I'm sure you can all see where this is going. A few minutes later Cole crawled in my room with a smile on his face...covered in poo.
Horrified I followed his tracks back to the living room and saw poop stripes all over our off white carpet. Shoot me. One hour later of scrubbing both baby and carpet, all is clean...but mama needs a vacation.
I tried to lecture Cole on what he did but he just laughed at me.
So then I had Mickey lecture him for me. Cole tends to listen to him better.
Mickey knocked some sense into him and Cole apologized. And then we ate Nutter Butters together to make ourselves feel better. Or maybe that was just me.
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