When we (I) first brought Lady Belladonna home to live with us, I was 100% against her being allowed anywhere in the apartment but the floor. No couches, no chairs, and definitely no beds. I did this, not because I'm mean, but because I had this picture in my head of this grown up, incredibly well-behaved dog that was content to lay at our feet when we sat on the couch, and never tried to jump up on us and never harassed guests when they came over to visit.
I sat on the ground with her, played with her from the floor, didn't put her in my lap when I was on the couch, blah blah blah. We were well on our way to the wonderful, happy, no dog hair on the couch future I had envisioned.
Fast forward 1 week.
I come home from work and there lies SK, in his standard afternoon position, asleep on the couch, TV on, blanket covering him, Bella's little head poking up from under the covers too...
HE TOTALLY CAVED ON THE RULES.
Turns out, when I was at work, he was routinely letting her nap with him. On the furniture. Sometimes even on the bed. I thought my head was going to explode.
It was all pretty much downhill from there. Now that we've moved out of the apartment (sniff...I miss you Heights) she has the run of the house. She leaps from couch to couch, tears around on the wood floors, sliding into walls, furniture, our neighbor's small children... AND she sometimes sleeps on the bed with us.
It's a battle I was destined to lose, really. But she's cute and she is always happy to see me, so I mean, who am I to deny her a little more spoonin' time? I was slowly getting used to sharing my side of the bed with a 75lb dog. She sleeps down at my feet, and I am ok with that--just stay away from my face and we're good.
Apparently she was angry at me for something on Monday night because I woke up to what can only be described as the most foul-smelling FUNK I have ever whiffed up these nostrils. SK was out with a friend and I let Bella sleep with me, hugging her a little closer and higher up than usual because I was all alone in the house. Evidently, at some point between 10pm and 2:30am, she flipped her ginormous self around, positioned her booty right near my delicate little olfactory cavities, and LET ONE RIP.
I woke up and immediately panicked, assuming she HAD to have just taken a massive poo on the bed. It smelled THAT BAD. As threw off the covers and stumbled toward the light switch, I was going over what the heck she could have eaten to make her so sick. I actually felt bad for her at that point--poor little thing, got sick and didn't feel well...
I flip the switch and there she is, lying on the bed, looking at me with one eye barely open, all lady, what the eff is wrong with you?? It's 2am--turn off the light! I scan the bed for poop because I refused to believe that she had only farted that stench out, but found none. I turned the fan on high and cracked a window because the smell hadn't dissipated any. I climbed back in bed, flipped her around so her butt was out of my face and unknowingly geared up for Round 2.
That's right, y'all...it happened AGAIN! She scooted back around sometime between 2am and 4am and bombed me a second time.
I was officially pissed upon waking up to a nose full of stink twice in one night, and started to take it personally. Do I not feed you? Do I not play with you? Do I not let you sleep in this massive bed with me, all comfortable and warm? I got up and dragged her to her kennel in the office and shut her inside for the remainder of the night. I walked back into my bedroom and almost passed out from the lingering fumes. I finally fell asleep and had dreams about a war with men in berets throwing vials of toxic gasses at me that were making my face melt off.
Anyone want a free dog?