I made up some good ribs last night. The potato salad was made with red potatoes so it wasn't as good as usual. Ya just gotta use the Idahos to make good potato salad. The gristle and bones as well as the pot liquor from parboiling the ribs was a big hit with the dogs.
I think Bo must have gotten a little too much rib fat for his geriatric digestive system. I think that because...well, I was just a couple of steps outside the computer room on the deck smoking a cigarette when Bo the Ancient literally came flying out from under the desk group headed for the door. Bo does not "fly" anywhere, even on his best days, but this was at least as fast as he had ever been, even as a pup. Alarm bells went off in my head and I grabbed for the sliding glass door handle in sheer panic. As near as I can calculate, I was about two, maybe two and a half heartbeats too late. Bo ran headlong into the closed door with a resounding "THUD". Upon impact, the contents of his gut continued forward removing the pressure on his butt which relaxed. A split second later the laws of physics took over, much like dropping a rock in a bucket of water, and the liquid rebounded and shot from his butt about a foot and a half, give or take. It was not just a narrow stream either. The collision addled him for a second causing him to sit back in that mess. I got the door open, got him up and out onto the deck. He wobbled about, plopping down here and there dookey-stamping his butt on my deck in several places.
Dealing with the immediate problem instead of thinking the entire situation through, I ran and got the hose, but the water was turned off in the basement because of the freezing weather. I was not pleased. I ran down the steps to the basement, unlocked the big doggie bunkroom door and turned on the water. I ran back upstairs and shut off the water to the hose that was now spraying willy-nilly about the deck like a mad snake. I realized the faucet below it under the deck was still on so I ran down the front steps, turned it off and ran back up to the deck to wash the crap off Bo before he could repaint the whole deck in brown...no nozzle...crap. I ran to the back door to get the new ones I had just bought and raced back to the hose...it has a quick disconnect fitting on it that was too tight to get off...crap!...down to the basement to find an adapter. I found two and raced back up the stairs, screwed it into the nozzle, plugged it into the hose, turned the water back on and hosed Bo down. It is cold, the water was colder and now I am off his list of fun people to hang with. I parked him in the sun and screwed the other adapter into the jet sprayer and got that on the hose. It took about half an hour to remove all the crappy butt prints from the deck. I shut off the water, hung up the hose and gasped a sigh of relief. My relief was as premature as it was short lived. It was at that point that I realized I should have just closed the door and took care of the carpet first.
The deck is mine and the carpet is Miz Dee's so I can't fault my autonomous prioritizing system, but, in this case, it was in grave error. I opened the sliding glass door, gagged and raced for the basement. I found my wide spatula, ran back upstairs and grabbed a roll of paper towels, a spray bottle of pet stain remover and a Wally World bag. It took ten minutes to scrape the worst of it up, all the time it stank like I was wearing a skunk for a gas mask. I sprayed the resulting horrible stain thoroughly with pet stain remover, then opened the sprayer and poured all of it on. I got the carpet cleaner and started in on the stain. After a couple of carpet cleaner dumpings and refillings, it is down to barely noticeable. If the carpet is ever going to exactly match the rest of the room, I'll have to paint it.
I am sitting here writing this to you almost two hours since the initial event. I am patiently waiting for it to get funny, which I know it eventually will. So far, I am not amused. I can hardly wait until Miz Dee gets home...