If someone would have told me yesterday AM, “Today you will pull half a bird out of your dog’s mouth while dry heaving and then you will have to pick up poop vomit, also while dry heaving, ten minutes later,” I wouldn’t have believed them. Surely, those two awful things can’t happen in the span of ten minutes.
Yet, they did. Last night around 11PM when all I wanted to do was finish Insurgent. Have you ever seen a bird’s wing with just part of the muscle attached? Have you then had to pull it out of your dog’s mouth after finding him by following a terrible gnawing sound?
Then has your husband ever shouted from downstairs ten minutes later, “Yo, your dog puked up poop again. Come clean it up.” and this is normal to you, because you’ve done it before?
Charlie and Mac feasted on bird guts and poop last night, and I was merely their table busser.
Anyone who says dogs don’t prepare you, at least a tiny bit, for kids is a liar. You can’t tell me poop vomit and bird guts haven’t strengthened my gag reflex when I have to eventually deal with explosive diapers. I will be an expert in cleaning up all things fecal, bloody, or smelly by then.