A Winter Weather 'Shit Advisory'

As promised…

My husband and I used to go up to our family’s cabin in Winter Park all the time.  We loved getting away, the snow, the smell and sound of a crackling fire and just being among the trees and mountains.  Our dog Lucy loved it as much as we did.  She could run forever in the snow, chasing squirrels and just tearing it up.  We take her with us a lot in the car.  We are a family after all. 

One trip, in particular, stands out above the rest.  Not because of little snow bunnies hopping playfully in the snow, or witnessing an adorable snowball fight amongst topless male swimsuit models.  No, it was another thing entirely.  Let me set the tone for you….

It was a very cold winter evening, the week was over, our car was loaded up and we were headed to the cabin.  Lucy always spends her time hopping back and forth between Kyle’s lap and mine.  We were just passing the little town of Empire about to head up over Berthold Pass.  We had literally just been commenting on what a good car dog Lucy had always been, etc, etc.   Low and behold the Karmic Gods were listening to our conversation and decided to take a big old crap on our good fortune.  And when I say a crap what I really mean to say is a gigantic waterfall of hot and stinky dog diarrhea, ALL OVER ME!! 

Lucy, out of nowhere, started jumping back and forth between Kyle’s lap and mine and acting all freaked out.  We couldn’t for the life of us figure out what she was going on about.   “What’s that Lucy?  Little Timmy is stuck in a well somewhere?”  No that wasn’t it.  For a good minute and a half we both were totally perplexed as to what was going on and all of a sudden one of us realized “She needs to go potty”!!! 

Ok, there is not exactly a great place to pull over at this point and just as we are frantically trying to decide what to do Lucy, on my lap mind you, releases this horrifically loud fart and, with it, a shower of liquefied diarrhea so fierce that there are no words to truly describe the horror.  Oh, but I’m gonna try… 

My hand is under her butt so it, naturally is filled.  I have it running between my fingers, spreading all over the front of me, into the seatbelt latch, all over the seat, thank God for leather.  Oh and the smell.  We’ve all smelled dog shit before but you really have to imagine what it is like to be trapped in a car with a shit covered dog and the feel of the hot stinky liquid running through the fabric of your clothes and marrying with your skin.  I must tell you folks, there isn’t anything I’ve experienced since that was even close. 

Have I ever mentioned my husband’s gag reflex?  No, well he’s got one.  A bad one.  Okay so here’s me, clinching my eyes shut and making some of the most disgusted and grossed out noises ever recorded and Kyle has the window rolled down attempting to not start dry heaving.  He pulls over to the only public place, a little last minute mini shop of sorts, also at the base of the Pass, and I jump out, getting Lucy on a leash.  He runs around the car to examine the damage.  I’m not kidding you, it was something out of a Saturday Night Live skit.  There I am, with this horrendously colored, choke you to death, watery, oily shit paste plastered all over me.  I’m covered from just below my chest to the bottom of my legs.  My poor dog is also covered and jumping around like, “Hey, what a relief that was, let’s play”.  I am standing there, holding my arms out like I’m hoping to take flight, all the while attempting to control her so my husband can go inside and try to get a roll of paper towels, a bucket, a hose, hell anything to help the situation.  Can you just picture me?  Standing there in that state watching cars just drive on by.   Sometimes I’m gagging at the stench wafting off of me, sometimes moaning and staring at my little happy shit covered dog wondering what the hell we’re going to do.  Oh and have I mentioned it’s freezing cold?  I mean it was cold before I was drenched in doggy butt vomit but now….

It seemed like about 15 minutes passed, the shit stained pair of us freezing our asses off and finally my husband comes out to clean us up. 

Apparently the lady who owns the little store, nice as she is, is a bit of a talker.  Not a good time for a talker.  As you can imagine it took a very long time to get the dog clean and I was fortunate enough to have clothes with me to change into as we were going for the weekend.  The store owner let me come in and clean up and all was eventually well.

Needless to say it was not quite the relaxing weekend we had planned, what with the cleaning products, q-tips in all the little cracks and tiny places, and the smell of fresh shit in the air.  Somehow though, Lucy still had quite the good time.