The Great Doggie Diarrhea Debacle of 2007

Reader discretion is advised. This is gross, folks.

Oh, and this entry is dedicated to my Mom, who literally saved my life today. Thanks, Mom.

My uncle owns two dogs, Jonah and Princess; one bird, Frosty; and a cat, Olivia. Jonah is a psychological mess and is deathly afraid of towels, sliding doors and pillows. Princess is a rambunctious, severely needy pup. Frosty is terrified of absolutely everything but does a beautiful rendition of “Jingle Bells.” And Olivia … well, she’s honestly one of the sweetest, most affectionate felines I’ve ever met.

I’m house-sitting this week for said uncle, and the pets are under my care. It’s simple, really – keep them happy and fed. In the meantime, I get a house to myself and little spending cash to boot. Not a bad gig, house-sitting.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the best of luck. And, naturally, something must go horribly wrong. Yesterday morning, that something occurred in the form of the single most traumatic experience of my young life.

I woke up at precisely 9:00 AM to the sound of Jonah whining at the foot of my bed. His short, broad face rested sullenly on the edge of the comforter as he grumbled softly. I’m still unsure as to if Jonah was simply informing me of his full bladder, or warning me of the horror that awaited me downstairs.

Crawling out of bed, bleary-eyed and tousle-haired (per usual, of course), I shuffled down the hallway and down the stairs to retrieve Princess from her crate. You see, Princess is still a puppy and, typical of young dogs, takes an unfortunate liking to chewing, tearing and peeing on various objects throughout the house. Thus, she is confined to a kennel downstairs when the family is away or sleeping. She doesn’t seem to mind it, and her time within the kennel is kept to an absolute minimum.

About halfway down the stairs, my nose was brutally and mercilessly assaulted by a smell I can really only describe as pure, highly concentrated evil. It stung my eyes, burned my nostrils, it literally made me retch. I turned to Jonah, whom I suspected to be the culprit of a very putrid doggy fart. He glanced up at me innocently.

This was no fart.

I continued warily down the stairs and pushed open the door to the sitting room. What awaited me within was something I’d much rather forget than write about now. The single foulest stench my nostrils have ever beheld.

Imagine a thousand Great Danes taking a thousand smelly dumps on the rotting corpses of a thousand sweaty fat men. The ensuing stench is roughly 1/10 the strength of the one which occupied that sitting room yesterday morning. Hand to God, I nearly vomited right there.

Tugging my T-shirt up over my face to protect my mouth and nose, I pushed through the thick fog of stink to find Princess’ kennel. There it was, sitting in the corner. And the stench was emanating from it. I approached cautiously. Princess greeted me with a wagging tail as she pressed her nose against the door of the crate. Like a fool, I opened the metal wire door and released her.

Princess was completely covered in her own feces – no, not feces. Feces is too nice a word. I’ll be frank: it was diarrhea. A lot of diarrhea. Diarrhea of the explosive variety.

And it. Was. Everywhere.

Before I could stop her, Princess began trotting about the room, tracking the wretched liquid waste with every step. Her tail wagged incessantly, spraying the foul stuff across the walls, the cabinets, the blinds and the couch. God help me, she got some on the microwave. Before I could scream, vomit, faint or really do anything appropriate given the situation, Princess ran to me.

And just like that, I was covered in it. Thick, foul mammal excrement of the most putrid caliber. And it was all over me. It was the stuff of nightmares.

I finally got my wits about me and acted quickly, sliding the backdoor open and pushing Princess outside. I was left alone in a room covered in dog crap. First things first, I had to bathe myself. Stripping immediately (ladies, calm down), I ran for the nearest bathroom and rinsed myself thoroughly. As I finished scrubbing off my top layer of skin, I realized that I had been screaming for three consecutive minutes.

I racked my brain for ideas. Cleaning supplies, of course! I’d need carpet cleaner, Windex, stain and odor remover. I’d need gloves, some sort of face-covering and, if I could come by a pair, some hospital scrubs. I scoured the cupboards in the kitchen and bathrooms, but to no avail. I had water and towels, which would hardly put me ahead in the battle to come.

For one wild moment, I contemplated simply torching the place. But, like any 19-year-old guy out on his own, I opted instead to phone my mother.

“Mom.”

“Yeah?”

“Princess had explosive diarrhea last night. It’s everywhere. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.”

“Hang on, I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

My Mom, God bless her, arrived with a trunk-full of weaponry to combat the crap – hell, she even brought an electric carpet cleaner along. Though the fight was just beginning, there was a dim pinprick of light at the end of that smelly tunnel.

Donning cloth masks and rubber gloves, we entered the room like SWAT Team members clearing a meth lab. Mom tackled the carpet with the electric cleaner, while I got to work scrubbing the walls and cabinet doors. Within 45 minutes, the room was cleared of any traces of doggie diarrhea. But the smell lingered powerfully.

I emptied half-a-can of Oust into the air and doused the carpet with a good liter of odor sanitizing liquid. We killed the stench. We killed it real good. Now only Princess and her poop-blasted kennel remained. We braced for our next challenge.

I launched myself out the door, Princess hot on my tail. Grabbing the hose from the ground and turning the knob as I passed, I vaulted onto the covered hot-tub and spun, spraying stinky Princess full with the nozzle.

Like a leper being touched by Jesus, Princess embraced the hose water and was washed clean of her own waste. The kennel was next. Up-ending it over the lawn, we turned the hose on it and blasted the crap off with a burst of water.

It was over. We’d won. Princess was clean and smellin’ fine, the sitting room was devoid of any traces and my sanity was left remarkably intact. I can still smell it, though … lingering in my nostrils. That smell.

That terrible, terrible smell.