I'm going to start this tale with the back story of what led up to this fateful Christmas morning for me and gave me a WHOLE new meaning to the term Yule Log. The person I was living with at the time wanted nothing more than a black Chow, and me being the sweet guy that I am, decided to see what I could do about it. Times were tough and I knew we couldn't afford a new Chow puppy, but I went on a quest to see if I could find a slightly used model at a discounted price. After some time searching, I came across a person that was giving away a 2 year old black Chow to a good home. That had my cheap butt written ALL OVER IT!
We loaded up the car and drove out to see the dog and it was one of those situations that you find yourself in that you are not sure about doing it, but looking at the dog makes you feel guilty if you turn around and leave. The dog seemed okay, but it was definitely a used dog. It had been kept outside and we were looking for an inside one, but after a few minutes of being around the dog, we decided to go ahead and give him a shot and we took him home with us. His name was Cody and we were now his owners.
Don't get me wrong, I'm an animal lover. Heck, just go back and read my puke on when I put my dog Kong to sleep, and you will know that I have a soft spot in my heart for animals. I love animals!!! I tried to bond with Cody, but he was a little skittish and not very loving. I'm sure he was scared and confused, so we did our best to make him feel right at home. I will say, even looking back now, I never really formed a bond with that dog, which is really weird for me. I'm the type of person that most pets love right away and we become buddies instantly. This didn't happen with this one, so I was pretty sure this was going to go into the "bad idea" file pretty quickly.
We were about a week from Christmas when we got him, and while we gave him plenty of attention and love, you could just tell that he was stressed out by the change in his routine. How did I know this? Well after about the forth day, I noticed that he hadn't pooped at all since we had him. I would take him out, he would pee, but he would not drop that deuce. It now became a matter of concern for us, because you could look at his brown eye and see that it was beginning to swell with the brown flood waiting to come out. Now I was about to "help" him with the process, but I was considering blowing as hard as I could in his mouth with hopes that would shoot that log across the yard. We then decided that we had better keep him outside for a bit and figured that since he was being kept outside before we got him, maybe he would feel more relaxed and let that puppy fly. NOPE!!!! Didn't happen. Not a bit of Christmas "rear" coming out of Cody. We finally figured that if nothing happened by Christmas, we would take him to the vet to get checked out and hopefully cleaned out before this poor dog exploded.
(Fast forward to Christmas morning)
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!! The presents were under the tree, we let Cody in the house for Christmas morning, and everyone got presents that day, I just didn't know at the time, that Cody had a present in mind for me a little later on in the morning. The gifts were now open and everyone was settling down after the whole, 5:30 am wake-up. For those of you that have step children, you know that Holidays are a weird time for everyone involved when everyone lives in the same town. You have to take the kids to their Father's and their grandparents from that side of the family. Well I was fairly new into this whole relationship, and let's just say that I wasn't going to be the most welcomed at either one of those homes. I told her to go ahead and take them over there to get their loot, and I would stay at the apartment and wait for them to get done. STUPID ME!!!! For I had no idea what the next hour after they left was going to be like thanks to "Cody. The swollen butt reindeer". Everyone got ready and headed out to do the loop. I said goodbye at the door and figured I would go ahead and grab a shower and get ready for later in the day when we would go to the family that I was accepted at.
At the time, we lived in a rather small two bedroom apartment. There was a living room, kitchen, a small hallway that led to a bathroom straight ahead, our room on the right, and the kids room on the left. Got the lay out??? Well I headed towards the bathroom and when I walked in, I about gagged on the smell that hit me when I walked in. I was in shock that one of the three that just left could leave me with that craptacular smell without leaving a candle or incense burning, even though it might not have been very safe having an open flame around that smell. It was one of those smells that a zombie could walk in after rotting in the ground for two years and after having tripped and fell into a septic tank, climb out and walk into my bathroom and say, "WHEW!!! That stinks!!!! . . . . . Braaains".
I walked straight to the toilet expecting to see a "rank raft" floating in the bowl, but upon my inspection I noticed two things. Number One: The bowl was crystal clear. and Number Two: The smell was not as bad inside the bathroom as it had been in the hallway. So I stepped out of the bathroom and smelled death and then stepped into the bathroom and just caught a hint of fecal fragrance. Stepped out, stepped back in, stepped out, back in and then it dawned on me. Where in the world was Cody????? I remember him being in the house, but I don't remember seeing him for a while. You could see the wheels click in my brain as I tried to process the fact that we left a loaded dog unattended and I was all alone in the apartment.
I stepped back into the hallway and noticed that the smell was stronger on the left, the kids room, than on the right, my room. The kid’s door was opened a crack and it might has well been the doorway to Hell from the odor that was pouring out of that room. I debated life at that moment and wondered if I just shut the door, went ahead and got ready, and then hid in my bedroom until everyone got home, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have to deal with any of what I was now sure had happened in that room. I was convinced that the dog had finally exploded. Well once again, that whole "sweet guy" took over and decided that I would have to be the one to take care of this. After all, how bad could it be right? So I opened the door.
Two more things happened at that moment. Number One: Cody came running out of the room which at least made me feel better because he at least hadn't blown up from the pressure and Number Two: The smell that hit me square in the face was unlike any I have ever smelt before. It was like a turd took a crap and then THAT turd took a crap and we were now down to just pure turd goodness. Then I made the mistake of turning on the light.
*Click* GASP!!!!! (DRY HEAVE)
I've seen a lot of horror movies, I've seen crime scenes, I've see Jersey Shore, and nothing, and I MEAN NOTHING, could prepare me for what my eyes took in on that Christmas morning. It looked like Santa had parked his sleigh in the kids room and all the reindeers had just gotten done eating Fiber Plus. I scanned the room quickly to see what was in store for me. There about three feet in, there was some mushy paste on the carpet that went for a couple of feet, the next thing was a trail of little turds that went a couple of more feet, then there on the floor was the BIGGEST turd I had/has/hopefully will ever have seen in my life. This thing was about the size of my forearm. I swear that if I would have been thinking clearly, I would have called the Guinness Book of World Records and gotten this turd in that book and it would STILL be in the book even to this day under the "World’s Largest Turd" category. Then, after this Poopy Mammoth, there was another trail of small turds, and then it appeared that Cody must have farted at the end, because there was sphincter spackle on the walls and on the brand new Batman tent that we had gotten the stepson that morning that he already put in the room. Let's see Batman pull something out of his utility belt to help him out of THIS mess.
You know those out of body experiences you hear about? Well I think I had one at that moment. I just stood there and stared at the disaster that was before my eyes and I just couldn't imagine that what I was seeing was real. I just wanted to roll up in the fetal position and rock back and forth calling for my Mommy. Then reality, and my weak stomach, hit me square in the face. If you have ever had that immediate gag reflex, you know what I'm talking about. It was like someone kicked me square in the gut by the way I doubled over. Thank God the bathroom was right there, because the last thing I wanted to do at that moment was to add my stomach contents in that mixture from the Poop Land Express. I dry heaved for a few minutes as the slide show of what I just saw raced through my mind and the smell that was now INSIDE my body wouldn't go away.
After those few long minutes, that whole flight and fight thing was having a battle with each other. My flight side wanted to just jump in the car and drive, where my fight side was telling me to be a man and clean up the mess before anyone got home. Dang fight side won!!!!! I needed a plan though to accomplish this with minimal amount of heaving and also to get it done as quickly as possible before I just passed out from the trauma.
I figured that I would need something to kill the smell and something to block the smell from getting in first. Off to the kitchen I ran to grab the Flowery Air Freshener can and to wrap three dish towels around my nose and mouth. I looked like the world's stupidest bandit at that moment. My weapon, the air freshener, and the apple dish towel that hid my identity. With that out of the way, I now needed to figure out what I was going to clean up all this "stuff" with. I figured a roll of paper towels, the trash can, and some generic cleaner would do the trick. So off to Hell I went to clear the room of the dookie demons that infested it.
My first step was to unload the entire contents of the can of air freshener into the room. Not once letting up on that trigger until nothing else came out of it. Even with my three dish towels on my face, the smell was still seeping in. It now smelt like someone took a dump in a rose garden in there. I knelt down and started with the hard little turds figuring that they would be the simplest to get out of the way, well the moment my hand hit the first one, my gag reflex kicked in and I had to run to the bathroom to download the contents of my stomach. I rushed back in the room, grabbed some turds, threw them in the trash can, and then ran back into the bathroom to heave. It was like watching some sick game show called "Grab the Turd for Cash". I repeated this room to bathroom for quite some time, until I got most the small turds and the skid marks cleaned up. I still had the monster turd to go and I didn't know how I was going to tackle it yet.
I walked into the room and eyed that thing and I swear it was looking back at me and I also swear I heard it laugh. I figured I would just rush in and grab it like the rest of them and dispose of it quickly into the trash can. Well once my hand hit that thing, it was like grabbing a large tree branch and IT WAS STILL WARM!!! There was no making it into the bathroom that time and I dry heaved so hard my eyes watered. Thank goodness there was nothing left in my stomach at that point, or that would have just finished me off right there. I decided that I was going to need something to scoop this "Turdtanic" up with, so I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the dust pan. My plan was pure genius. I would scoop this thing up in one quick motion, dump it in the trash can, and then spray the carpet with cleaner and I would be done!!! Whoo Hoo!!! The perfect plan right??????
WRONG!!!!
I sucked in a deep breath, ran into the room, and bent over to scoop this log the size of a log into the trash can. I knew something wasn't going to go right the second I lowered my dust pan to this monstrosity. The turd was LONGER than the dust pan! That's right; this mighty oak sized turd dwarfed my dust pan!!! I went for the scoop anyway because I had to breathe shortly and I didn't want to be in there for the next breath I would take. I decided to attack one side of it and figured that if I at least got 3/4's of it on the dust pan, I was fine. I lifted it up and let me tell you right now, it was like lifting a 5 pound weight with a dust pan. I got it halfway to the trash can and then it happened. I had the dust pan okay, but the sheer weight of this Godzilla sized nugget caused the dust pan to bend. So halfway up, this turd decided to roll/slide off the dust pan and fall back to the floor with a loud SPLAT!!!! It also took this opportunity to fall into three separate pieces on the floor just to make this job even tougher for me. Well once it hit the floor and broke open, I lost it once again. This time, however, I found some liquid in my stomach to spill forth. So, with eyes watering and holding a poop smeared dust pan, I puked. Remember though, I had those three dish towels on my face. So instead of "ralphing" on the floor, I puked right into the towel that was attached to my face. The towel acted like a puke filter and there was not a lot that made it through the towel. It just stayed right there attached to my face. Talk about a sight to behold.
I think I must have cried out to God to please make this stop because I couldn't bear this poop filled cross that I was given anymore. I yanked off my puke filled towels and just scooped those three poop piles into the trash can as fast as I could and then sprayed the floor with the rest of the cleaner and ran out of the room to breathe. I slowly regained my composure and once I had, I ran into the room, grabbed the trash can and the dust pan and took them immediately outside to bake in the hot Florida sun. I kind of felt bad for the garbage men that would be picking up this Christmas bonus later on in the week. I think by then I was in shock because I just sat down on the couch and tried to process the horror that I had just been through. You couldn't have given me a more horrible scenario to live through at that point of my life. Talk about a trial by fire, well that was a trial by feces! So in closing. . . . .
I HATE DOOKIE!!!!!!!
SMILE!!!
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