Isn't it Ironic?

On Saturday night, a couple of my friends came over to hang out and watch movies. One of them brought her 6 month old puppy to play with Abby. Her puppy is a Jack Russell and Chihuahua mix, creatively named 'Jack.' Abby and Jack gave us about 4 hours of extreme puppy cuteness, playing with, chasing, and biting one another. In that span, little puppy Jack pooped on my floor....twice and peed once. It was no big deal, I'm a dog person, I know what puppies can be like, I dealt.

This morning I was emailing Brianna about my weekend and in that email I said something along the lines of how I was so happy that I got Abby when she was 11 months old so I didn't have to deal with puppy tendencies of the bathroom variety (although we all know I have had my fair share of other puppy tendencies).

This afternoon I arrived home at the same time as my neighbor. He was talking about how it was a Monday, and alluded to the fact that his day had not gone particularly well because of it. I told him that Mondays aren't bad, it's the Tuesdays that will get ya. As I said that, I opened up my front door and a not so pleasant aroma wafted me in the face. That's right. Doggy Diarrhea. A. Nice. Big. Pile of it. She looked up at me with her scary smiles and tried her best to convey that she was so very sorry and that she couldn't help it. She had plopped it right in front of the sliding glass door, I guess that was the closest to outside she could find. Luckily, I still had some carpet cleaner from the green pen incident of St. Patty's Day and my carpet is currently soaking, while about 15 candles attempt to burn the smell away.

After I picked up the poo, I went outside to walk Abby and ran into my neighbor once again, walking his dog. I told him that I have a sick puppy on my hands and his response was, "See. It's Monday."