Apparently some of my friends have about a one week shelf life and decide to test me with idle threats of ceasing to read my blog. Well, Wigman, it worked. Here's the entry, dedicated to you and only you.
School is officially done and today, a week later, I finally had an evening free of obligation. I decided that the best way to relax would be to take everything out of my closet and dresser and completely reorganize everything. I put Gatsby in his kennel and went to work. My bed is still covered with clothes but that's not a problem since I don't have to go to work tomorrow.
Gatsby is awesome, except slightly too smart for his own good. He pooped on the floor in my loft today and, because he knows he gets into trouble when he does that he decided to hide the evidence.
By eating it.
So, I'm sitting at my dining room table working on a deposition and I happen to glance over at Gatsby in time to see him hork his own shit up all over my white carpet.
Allow me to take the liberty of informing you that you have never, no matter what you may have smelled in your life...decomposing corpse, something from fear factor, etc....you have never smelled anything that compares in the grossout factor to vomited feces.
Tomorrow I will watch him more carefully, obviously.
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