Oh, merde!

It's been great having a dog. Sly is gentle, amiable, flexible. And he cleans all the floors, licking grains of rice from between Josie's toes when possible. Unfortunately, two nights ago he was stricken with a sudden bout of diarrhea... all over the carpet. Must have been something he ate. Maybe that left over mac and cheese he got off the picnic table. Then he suffered another attack during the day. And again at 3 this morning. Each time leaving a long trail of liquid hell up the stairs and in clandestine puddles around the house. The whole house smells like poop. We can't shake it. I feel like it's simply a physical manifestation of our current internal conflict, assisting the perfect ambiance for our late night conversations about what the hell do we do next.