Strong enough for a man, but not for dog doo.

Every week, Mama Kat, who is possibly the most hilarious girl in the blogosphere, hosts a "Writer's Workshop" with some fun prompts. This week, one caught my eye: "Describe the most destructive thing your pet has done."

Immediately, a story came to mind. You might remember me posting about my beloved dog (who we still refer to as our first baby), Marley.

Marley might have been the most loved and spoiled dog ever.

See?

He was an 110-pound massive American Bulldog who sadly died from a heart attack at 18 months, about two weeks after Logan was born.




Like the book and movie (which I still refuse to see, trouble seemed to find Marley.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Four years ago December 22, I woke up happy...it was my birthday! (I'm one of those annoying people who LOVES my birthday and I don't mind that it means I'm getting older. In fact, if you ask me how old I am, odds are it will take me a few minutes to figure it out.)


I had to go to work that day, and like every other weekday from August-May, I was rushing around my house, trying to get ready. I showered, got dressed, dried my hair, slapped on some makeup, threw it in the drawer, swiped on some deodorant, set it down, put my American Bulldog puppy, Marley, in his kennel, and rushed out the door.


After work, I came into our house, giddy about my birthday celebration that night. We were going out to dinner with my mom, and I had just enough time to get home, let Marley out, and get freshened up. Three steps into the house, I stopped short.


The smell was overpowering. It was the unmistakeable odor of dog poop.

Marley was still fairly young at that time, but he was housebroken. With great trepidation, I headed back to our bedroom, where Marley's kennel was housed.


There. Was. Poop. Everywhere.


It looked like Marley had put his sweet little white butt up to the kennel and shat straight out. There was poop on the walls. On the kennel. On the carpet. Under the kennel. And all over Marley.

I literally burst into tears, upset that there was no way that I would make the dinner reservation and for goodness sakes, this was my birthday!!!

Then I saw it. My deodorant that, in an ADD-haze, I had carelessly left on top of the kennel. It was no longer on top of the kennel, but instead, inside the kennel. That is, what was left of it. Marley had eaten about 90% of the deodorant and the container. Evidently, deodorant does not digest well, as I noticed it was mixed with Marley's birthday gift to me. Unfortunately, it didn't help the smell one bit.

I called my mom, in tears, to explain that I wasn't going to be able to make the dinner. I hauled Marley into the shower and after washing him off (as well as the poopy tracks leading to the shower), I tackled the kennel. By the time B arrived home, I was gulping big, fat, pity-party tears as I cleaned the kennel. And the walls. And the carpet. I was covered in the poo-deodorant mix by this time, too.

B took pity on me and took over cleaning while I tried to call the vet to find out just how poisonous deodorant was. They were closed, but directed me to a Poison Control for Dogs number that cost some ungodly amount of money. After hemming and hawing, I decided to take my chances and simply do my research google-style.

The good news was that Marley lived. The better news was that I was able to celebrate my birthday dinner.

The craziest part of the story is that still to this day, I think about my Marley and all the trouble that found him and miss him terribly.