Count on it

A warning to D & K: I'm about to go off on your favorite four-legged member of the J family. But she deserves it.

Three, no, FOUR things that consistently happen when a major holiday is right around the corner that will necessitate us boarding The Dog:

1. Mr. J will have to be out of town on business at least one night which means I am on 24/7 dog n' kid duty.
2. A lizard will get into the house. Even if the freezing winter here has drastically reduced their population, the hardy survivors continue to make valiant attempts to find their way indoors.
3. One or both kids will have about 23,000 things going on, a major test, and/or a fight with their so-called best friend.
4. The Dog will develop a sudden and disgusting illness that will include any or all of the following: sudden diarrhea, total incontinence, unexplained vomiting, a giant hotspot, stinky fur.

Items 1-3 I can handle on my own, because I am a Mom, and everyone knows Mom can do anything. Item number 4 is the kicker.

I came downstairs Thursday morning in the midst of my tightly scheduled and highly efficient morning routine that allows us to get out the door to school. I was immediately assaulted by a crying doggy and the most foul sinus-clearing stench ever. At first glance it seemed that every corner of the wood floor (Praise God we don't - and never will - have carpet) was covered with some type of doggy-related accident. On second glance it was just the downstairs loo, the fireplace hearth, both doorways, behind the couch and on our old upstairs sunroom rug, which was enjoying what turned out to be a very short-lived trial run in the Awkward Front Window area of the living room.

Let it be known that I have very little compassion for any creature that consistently befouls my living area(s) resulting in me on my hands & knees employing my holy trinity of cleaning products. Plus there is no obvious reason for her doing this: she is not allowed outside unsupervised anymore; she hasn't been to a dog park; she didn't eat anything crazy off the kitchen floor.

So now I'm trapped at home, afraid to leave her because I don't want her to mess all over everything again. And worse, I will either have to take her to the vet where they will immediately want to run $1800 worth of tests on her and provide her with 45 days worth of medicine that I will have to give her three times a day, 'cause I don't have anything better to do with my time or money OR I will have to omit fudge the truth outright LIE when I board her and say she is fine or they probably won't let her in without the aforementioned $1800 of tests and meds. I will bet that we had a large part in funding the vet's office renovation last year. As long as Fizz lives they have a guaranteed income source.

Disclaimer: Lest you think I am a heartless, careless, irresponsible dog owner, please note that she does this roughly once a month. If she was having one of her pancreatitis attacks we would recognize those symptoms immediately and get her to the vet. All this other stuff is, I believe, largely psychosomatic and no tests have EVER conclusively pointed to a cause. And we have spent untold thousands testing her. And there is never anything wrong.

Okay. I've vented. Thanks for listening.