I hemmed and hawed over posting this photo. Everyone I’ve shown it to has laughed hysterically, but it’s admittedly a little gross — and that’s not what you want to portray on a food blog. So bear with me, and rest assured that the dog definitely got a bath after this happened.
As I’ve mentioned, David and I adopted a new dog a few months ago. He’s a rescue dog, who was saved from a puppy mill, and due to that, Fleetwood has his own set of unique challenges — some of which we never saw coming. A couple weeks ago, I was downstairs when I hear a strange scratching noise. In our house, you just never know what the animals are destroying, so I rushed upstairs. I checked in the bedroom — no Fleetwood. I looked in the office — no Fleetwood. Well, that’s strange. We only have those two rooms and a bathroom on the second story, so where could he be? I peered in the bathroom, and what did I see?
Cat litter. Everywhere. And a Crouton who was very unhappy to see she’s been ousted from her little cave of a litter box.
There’s been a lot of suggestion as to why Fleetwood did this — he likes small spaces, even though he has a covered kennel right around the corner, or that he’s used to sitting in dirty spots. Whatever the reasoning was, Crouton was not pleased. Neither was I, considering I had to sweep up litter and then bathe a dirty dog. We fixed the situation by turning the litter box so the opening faces the wall, and only Crouton can squeeze in.
Sigh. It’s always something new in our household. How about a cleaner topic — something grilled, perhaps?