We now understand what the phrase "sick as a dog" really means. It means having to use nearly a gallon of undiluted Simple Green on the bedroom carpets, and having to burn the living room rug in the outdoor fire pit.
Poor Ozzie! He's been terribly ill with a case of the runs. His illness makes us think we have been living indoors with a large cow.
Since I am also down with a virus, Richard has been the clean up crew.
Have I mentioned before that his care for creatures great and small is one reason he has my heart forever? When Annie cat was less than one pound of fur and fleas, he painstakingly removed every single one.
Then I learned a valuable bit of wisdom about myself. No matter that I am not the direct cause of distress, when my husband is angry, I feel shame. I always feel somehow that I am at least indirectly responsible.
He knows this about me. So during the blitzkrieg of doggie diarrhea, I was told to stay out of the way so he could be undisturbed in his anger.
Did I mention that on day two of Ozzie's illness, we learned that you are supposed to withhold all food for 24 hours?
As of this morning, it seems that our sweet dog made it through the night without incident. I'm still nervous about letting him come back inside.
The end of this story has a dash of irony...
During the clean up, I was in bed, feeling empty-handed and very useless. So I picked up a project that I'd been meaning to finish that only required a bit of hand stitching: