{{Steph}}

sj, yay for sarcasm! I am sad these days, so it may color what I read.

a bit of wisdom that has helped her: stay close, do nothing.

Father Wendt, the founder of the agency where I was trained as a death, dying and bereavement counselor, talked about how he found his calling to work with those in transition.

As a young priest, he was nervous about 'doing it right' when visiting with the dying. Early on, one elderly lady set him right as he pontificated about the grace of death and her bravery, etc. etc. At one point, she interrupted him with, "Dear God. Could you please just shut up and rub my feet!"

Her putting him in his place became the foundation of a wonderful organization that has helped thousands and thousands of people.

You know what's AWESOME? Coming home at 12:30, alone, from supporting your partner while his mother is dying, to find the dog sprawled in a giant pile of her own shit, all over the living room floor and her fur and feet.

Cleaning the floor was a piece of cake compared to cleaning her, because she can't stand having her feet touched, and they were caked with poop.

Oh my fucking god.

I was going to come home and post something about how it's hard but it's actually really beautiful that Tim and his brothers have the chance to help their mother die as lovingly as possible -- and it IS -- but OH MY FUCKING GOD THE SHIT EVERYWHERE THE DOG SHIT.

I can no longer remember why I don't keep bourbon in the house.

Oh Tep. I am so, SO sorry. God. That just stinks...literally. I'm just shaking my head and feeling terrible for you. And poor Chloe!

Bless your heart.

God, that's awful, Teppy!

Oh, Tep. You saw that I had to give my cat a bath because of cat shit in his fur, right? Fun times.

It just occurred to me Tep, have you got any Nature's Miracle at home? You could use that right on the pooch's fur and then give it a good rinse with water. That might make the clean up faster and significantly cut down on the smell.

It's happened maybe once every 2-3 months, where we come home late in the evening and Chloe has pooped and then (this is what we're guessing) starts to flail and then ends up sprawled on the floor and can't get up and ends up lying in it. Generally she doesn't get as much stuck on her fur as she did tonight. The floor was icky, but I swear that if it weren't 1 a.m. I would have taken her in the driveway, hooked up the hose and given her a serious bath.

She's cleaned up, though I think she could still use a good scrubby bath, and the floor is clean. And I am eating peanut butter cookies and exchanging disgusted looks with Toke the cat. (Chloe is curled up on her bed, occasionally giving me a can-I-have-a-cookie? look. Kato is lying by the front door wondering where his male human is. Slinky the cat is stalking a helpless rubber band.)

I'm so sorry, Tep.

Getting a little literal there, universe. We get what you're saying, ok? Now back off.

have you got any Nature's Miracle at home?

I don't think we do, but we need to keep some on hand.