Bad Dog Pele! Very BAD Dog!

It began on a hot steamy Wednesday night. Jake was sick with a high fever one degree away from taking him to the hospital for ice baths. I was pretty beat from trying to run around and do a million things. I awoke in the middle of the night to a horrible smell. It was as though something had died in our bedroom and the air conditioner and fan had thoroughly spread the god awful scent to every corner of the room. Some people say the scent of your own baby's poop won't really bother you. Personally, I have always been highly suspicious of such an optimistic statement involving poop. However, I can assure you that one never stops smelling a puppy's poop and tonight it was especially fragrant.

I threw a pillow over Jake's head, luckily he did not think I was trying to smother him in his sleep as he was drugged up on Nyquil. Then, I flicked on the lights and began to peer around. I couldn't find the poop anywhere and the smell wasn't getting any better. I tried to fall back asleep but was eventually driven to sleep in the hammock in our living room because of the stench.

Thursday morning, I scrubbed the floor on my hands and knees and mopped it three times. We found one spot that seemed a little extra stinky, but could not find any actual signs of poop. Now, Pele likes to add the occasional self created snack to his menu (he is now on special don't eat your poop medication) so we gave up. I bought some verbena oil to mask the vile scent and it did seem to get better. Only that night it wasn't. The smell was haunting me, I felt dirty just being in the room, much less trying to sleep there. Where was the (insert some vile words) poop?

Friday morning arrived. Now, I can be fairly easy going, most of the time, but sleeping in a poop/verbena scented room was not going to happen again. I was determined and armed with a role of paper towels, cleaner, and trash bags. I sprayed, scrubbed, and cleaned. Finally, driven to desperation I moved the bed and started cleaning under it. As I stretched my arms under the bed to reach a spot, something small, brown, and torpedo shaped caught the corner of my eye. What kind of dog would commit such a horrendous crime?

Recently, Pele had taken to scooting around under the bed on his back. It was really pretty cute. However, on that dark and steamy night, Pele took his fun one step farther... he dug into the box spring. He crawled up and scampered around. But that was not enough for Pele or maybe he got trapped up there and had to go. I must say my instinct perceives darker motives. Pele pooped four times in the box spring before he returned to sleep innocently on his dog bed.

Since his conviction, life had changed a little for Pele. He now sleeps in the bathroom. Cesar Millan says dogs need boundaries, well Pele now has four tiled walls and a door. Could even Cesar Millan have predicted such outrageous behavior?