It's hard to be cheery this Friday morning, not after what happened last night. I kicked something wet and cold at 2am in the morning and woke up to find a pile of Rusty's vomit at my foot. I turned on the light to discover his entire chicken dinner was regurgitated on my bed, in 2 piles.
I sprung out of bed, pulled the sheets and mattress protector off immediately. On the way to the bathroom, I stepped on another wet spot on my rug. Ughh!
After putting the sheets in the washer, I went to sleep on sofa. Just as I was dozing off, YK appeared before me. Rusty had gone into his room and vomitted on his bed. YK took over the sofa while I changed his sheets.
Then we realised he vomitted all over the shaggy rug in the living room too. I spent an hour wiping, disinfecting, spraying, cleaning and drying the rug. I was so freaking frustrated (not to mention hungry from the hard work) the whole night, too angry to give the sick dog any sympathy. He wasn't sick actually. The dinner he ate didn't agree with his stomach, that's all.
I can't blame a dog for being sick, can I? Keeping a pet is like having a baby. One should expect all kinds of mishaps. We can't afford to be squeamish about such things. Dogs shouldn't be kept in an apartment but that wasn't how it started in the first place.*
We were living in the farm and the carefree life and huge expanse of space suited him perfectly. We moved into an apartment five years later while Rusty stayed behind at the farm. When he started getting into all kinds of trouble and dog fights, we had to bring him to live with us.
From the acres of land he grew up in, he's suddenly confined to a small apartment and left to his own devices most part of the day. The space is already so small, it would be too cruel to restrict him from going into our rooms. When it comes to hygiene, we just have to wash him and the sheets (in hot water) more often than normal. To be fair, he doesn't walk all over the beds. He sleeps in his own little corner on my King sized bed at night. Luckily, he doesn't like the sofa and does not attempt to sleep on it.
Anyway, it's 10.30am and I'm still at home. I took the morning off to clean up the house. Besides I have a meeting with an important customer this afternoon. The client is the corporate type who's always dressed to the nines, I can't show up looking like I've spent the night cleaning up vomit. I need time to disinfect the furniture, Rusty and myself before donning decent meeting attire.
Yah, I wish I don't have to multi-task so much but until I get permanent domestic help, somebody just have to get the job done. The next question is, where is the domestic maid going to sleep? Not share the bed with Rusty and me, I hope!
* Sadly, many big dogs are given up for adoption every year when the owners move to an apartment as it is against the law to keep big dogs in a flat. To me, it's like giving up a child.