Can you see where this is going?
The dogfarts over Sat/Sun were bad, but it was time to go so go we did, dogfarts notwithstanding.
It was hot that day.. about 30 degrees. Keep that in mind. And the air conditioning in my old Explorer doesn't work anymore.
Approaching Vernon I asked my son "can you check and see if she shit back there because it sure smells like it" and he responded "I can't see shit!" LOL. Just some more wicked gas. Roll the windows down more.
So I stopped at Little Sleazers and grabbed a couple of hot and ready's, along with a stack of napkins.
Remember the napkins, they'll become important later.
We scarf our pizza in a haze of dogfarts all the way through Vernon. We leave town and have just passed the speedway when Ella pipes up in a panic:
I says "pardon?"
"LILY TOOK A LITERAL SHIT ON PETRA!! AND NOW SHE'S WALKING AROUND!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
I pull over at the next road and grab the stack of napkins, thinking I'll extricate the deuce from the SUV, but when I popped the cap I discovered that Lily hadn't shat upon Petra, rather, Lily had dropped the bombs and Petra had laid in it.
More accurately, Lily had taken a two-days-of-new-food-and-now-we're-on-a-car-ride-yay dump right in the back corner of the truck, and Petra had laid on it and ground it into the carpet, the corners, a utility hook.... I stood there dumbfounded for a second, realizing the scope of the disaster, and then sprang into action.
The stack of sleezers napkins would now become a kind of tarp. I patted it down on the warm shit, hoping to keep the idiots from tracking through it continuously and closed the hatch.
We had to just get home, post haste, and begin cleanup efforts there. In hazmat suits.
Thus we hit the road with an increased sense of urgency and impending feeling of doom. The windows were down - all of them - trying to vent the stench of dogshit. All this excitement got Petra wound up too, she was vibing off us hard with all the shrieking, so she decided to begin pacing around, eventually settling with her back end (the shit covered end) on all our gear.
My overnight bag, the waffle maker, Ella's pillow and blanket and so on.
All our things.
Nothing is sacred.
God is dead.
Petra had also taken an interest in Lily's handiwork and managed to get it on her face, which she then deposited conveniently on Ella's headrest while trying to give Ella poop cuddles.
We're going to have to burn the truck.
So by this point we're racing down the highway, past Circle Lake, everyone screaming as Petra spreads it around further, in utter bliss (see attached photo), the caricature of a shit eating grin.
All the windows are down, the smell is vile it's like she's taken a dump right in our mouths and the open windows have created a bit of stir within the vehicle.
Darwin's got his arm out the window when suddenly something flashes past my eyes - I swear I thought a bird had flown in the front window - and then SLAP! Is attached to Darwin's arm.
It's one of the shit napkins.
You've never heard such screaming. It was like a scene from a horror movie, like his hand was being sawed off by a killer, except his arm was fully extended out the window and plastered to his forearm was the first shitnapkin.
That's right, the FIRST.
Now my SUV is dubbed the shitwagon (or shitmobile) and we have a hurricane of shit napkins to swirl around the cab intermittently until we get home. Every time one takes flight and flutters around in our faces, everyone screams.
Within a kilometer of the house I brief the kids: "If you bail in the back, the dogs will climb over so stay still and I'll let them out the back and then NOBODY GO INSIDE we have to hose the doggos off."
More than an hour had transpired since the fabled deuce so it was dried and crusted deep into Petra's fur... the washing took about 20 minutes under high pressure.
But wait, there's more.
We don't have a place to tie the dogs up because they're free range doggos so the best we could come up with was a leash and attach it to.... the fence. That's already kinda falling down. Well, within a few minutes they managed to bring it down.
So Darwin decided to just attach Lily's leash to a pair of plastic garden furniture side tables, thinking she won't move.
Which she didn't... for like, five minutes.
But then she did.
And when she moved, the table moved.
And this caused her great anxiety.
So she began to run. BUT THE FUCKING TABLE FOLLOWED HER! IT'S CHASING ME PANIC PANIC PANIC!!
I'm standing on the front porch answering messages when suddenly I hear this unbelievable clatter and Lily goes tear assing right by me as fast as you've ever seen a dog run while towing furniture, around the corner and off into the yard, tables in hot pursuit. (See video).
I think the moral of the story is, don't change your doggos' food on a roadtrip.