Shit’s Finest Hour

I know I talk a lot about dog crap. Dog crap has worked its way into the fabric of my life like snow to an Eskimo.

A very wise man of dog shit once commented on this blog, “Shit had bigger plans for you.”

Well shit trumped me once again on Thursday in a spectacular fashion that only shit can do. I couldn’t have made up a story this good.

On Thursday afternoon my work companion Ty and I headed to Southport with the RV in tow. I decided to take our number three dog Haley. It was to be an abbreviated guy weekend ending on Saturday afternoon.

Our mission was to set the RV back up in Southport, get the Jeep and head back home again. Meanwhile we will have a few beers and laughs and stay over two nights.

The ride down was uneventful until about 150 miles into the drive. Haley started acting squirrely and I guessed correctly that she needed to do her business. Good thing too because the last 40 miles of the trip was approaching and the road it very narrow. It would be impossible to pull off if she had waited much longer.

So I stopped and sure enough Haley had to go big time.

Soon we turned down the narrow highway 211 towards Southport. Within moments Haley started acting strange. She attempted to go down on my side of the truck floor board. She even tried climbing up on the windshield area.



Finally she took the all too familiar crimping formation on the front seat between Ty and me like a lineman set for a critical 4th down and 1 draw play.

Time started moving in slow-motion. I heard the general quarters alarm go off as screams were heard from Ty’s side of the truck. “Oh noooooooo!”

I looked down and Haley was pooping on a towel on the seat between us. She had the runs. I saw her lose her balance and she stepped in the massively growing pile.

I heavy vapor hit me and I went into convulsive gagging. Ty broke into hysterical laughter.

Meanwhile I had to figure out where to stop this 18,000 pound rig to bail out.

Time was wasting now that Haley had crap on her paws. She was a hazmat nightmare.

I found a small grassy shoulder where I pulled off. Haley made a run for the door leaving dollops of crap everywhere she touched.

This was perhaps shits finest hour.

Shit had figured out how to infiltrate the close quarters of the cab of my truck, spread itself, and leave me defenseless. Worse yet, I was the adult that had to handle this. Gigi was hundreds of miles away. I myself must confront shit and contain it.

I spent the next 30 minutes cleaning crap from seats, doors, hands, hairy dog butts and paws, all the while tossing towels and gagging as a severe thunderstorm approached with powerful lightening. Thankfully I had an RV full of crap cleaning stuff and shit neutralizers.

When we arrived Haley got a good bath and no supper along with 2 Pepto-Bismol.

Life returned to normal but shit won once again in fine fashion.

10 comments:

TerryC said...

Aww, poor Haley!

TerryC said...

But why do your dogs so frequently seem to have diarrhea?

What do you feed them?

Poor Haley!

Anonymous said...

I'm with Ty- still laughing from the image.
A funny story, I smell your pain.

Anonymous said...

Man, you really talk some shit Reggie!

Ali said...

*gag*

Oh my freaking god! So disgusting. I'm with Ty though, I'd be laughing through the gags :)

Teresa said...

I actually kinda feel bad that I am laughing THIS HARD at your misfortune!!!

I have had the same situation but with children (and not in a truck). I swear every single time a child goes #2 in their pants...they end up loosing their balance while taking off the shorts/pants and inevitably STEPPING in it and by the way of freaking out about it...manage to spread it everywhere!

Sorry about your truck!

Unknown said...

What an outstanding story to start my Monday! That seriously just made my whole week!!!

Reggie Hunnicutt said...

Well, everything worked out okay and my truck smells fine this morning.

mr zig said...

so gross :) hehe - but so funny -

Anonymous said...

That's one of the biggest reasons I insist there will not be another dog in this house. (But I don't really believe me when I say that.)