This was Shelby's (the dog) first July 4th with us. Apparently Shelby is afraid of fireworks. Oh, and so is Izzy (the other dog). Tonight when I got home, I let poor Shelby inside because she was huddled out back by the door and I let Izzy out of her kennel. I was the only one home. We live far away from the main fireworks but you could still kind of hear them and you could certainly hear other fireworks going off. So the dogs and I sat in the house. At some point during the evening, Izzy decides she needs to go outside to do her business. So all three of us go out front, only to have two dogs try to jump into my arms while I stood there. Big scary noises equal two dogs literally scared crapless. So back inside we go. I keep Izzy in my constant sight as Izzy needs to poo and Izzy likes to poo in the living room. Thus begins the trauma.
Izzy starts pacing back and forth over me on the couch and suddenly floofs ON MY ARM!! Super gross! I had doggie gas on MY ARM. Back outside all three of us go. Again, two dogs too afraid to crap let alone leave my side. So back inside we go. I call my parents, thinking they have got to be close to home. Maybe we could do a little doggie group therapy and together help the dogs poo outside and not so much in the living room. My mother suggests I try taking them out back, where Shelby lives. It is a fenced backyard so perhaps they will feel safer. I open the door, Izzy goes out, the bugs come in, and Shelby takes off across the house in fear of the big scary noises and being left outside. I shut the door on Izzy, leaving her outside, many many bugs inside and chase after Shelby. Shelby has positioned herself in an almost impossible angle to reach her collar (smart dog). I proceed to climb over her and try to man handle my 50 lb dog towards the back door. She proceeds to play dead. (Again, smart dog). I am now trying to move 50lbs of dead weight across the room, all while trying to be firm but in reality laughing hysterically. HELLOOOOO!! A dog floofed on MY ARM!! The dogs must do their duty outside and it must happen before more then a floof is left on my arm! So in the process of dragging my faker dog to the door, I pull a muscle in my back. I finally get Shelby to the door, open the door, Izzy runs in, the bugs run in and in the process of trying to catch Izzy, Shelby gets loose and flies across the room again. By this time, I am laughing hysterically, I can barely stand up straight my back hurts so bad and there is a giganto moth flying by my head. I look up and what do I see? A very triumphant Shelby perched on the couch like she owns it. Bad Shelby. She is not allowed on the couch. I try to scold her in my best Cesar impression but I am laughing to hard. I limp to the couch where Shelby sits, master of her domain, and try to pull her off, all the while trying to use my firm voice and keep my eye on Izzy in case of spontaneous poopage. Shelby just grins. It takes all I have to push her off the couch, my back is on fire, the giganto moth is trying to eat me and Izzy is slinking off to her triumphant return to the living room. I am laughing so hard that Izzy might not be the only one to lose bladder control in the living room and there is Shelby, in all her glory, grinning at me. The two dogs and I end up sitting on the kitchen floor, me popping Ibuprofen and trying to stretch out my back. Shelby just sits there giving me kisses. Stupid difficult amazingly cute affectionate calm dog. I love her. And I start laughing again. Now...where did Izzy go???