A Sweet Smelling Story

This happens to be one of my very favorite pictures of Sophie and it seemed very apt for today’s tale. Eldest Son is a temporarily (he hopes) schedule wherein he has to be at work at ether 5 or 6 a.m, which means that he has to get up between 3 and 4 in the morning. IN THE MORNING. He is not a morning person. Several days ago he was sitting at the kitchen table eating his breakfast with the dogs keeping him company. (They adore it when anyone gets up at an ungodly hour. This is dog party time.) He got up from the table and Sophie walked over to the back door indicating that she would like to go outside. He said he thought she might just want to play and he was reluctant to let her out in case she barked. So he went about his business of getting ready, took a shower and went downstairs to his room to get his keys (a shirt, a book, something). What he found when he went downstairs was a line of dog poop from the stairs to his bedroom door. He cleaned it up and went to work fuming. Sidenote: I cannot recall a single “accident” from Sophie since she was a puppy.

When he came home and told us this stinky story, both BG and I laughed our asses off. She was telling him in no uncertain terms that when she went to the back door, she had to GO! Eldest Son thought it was some sort of retribution, but both BG and I explained to him that she does not have a vindictive bone in her body and we both thought it was a small stroke of brilliance to tell him in terms she hoped he would understand, that when she goes to the back door, she has to GO.

I also told Eldest Son that in future, he could a) just leave the door open and don’t worry about the neighbors or b) wake me up to deal with it, not the first 3 a.m. wake up I have had in my years as a mother.

I think everyone got their point across.