This is a repeat of a classic true family story. The person telling this story is not me, but my sister. At the time, the dogs Willy and Marvin were still practically puppies.  

Warning: this story is not for the easily squeamish. 

Sunday afternoon, while trying to get the dogs to MELLOW THE HELL OUT, I took them onto the futon in my old room and tried to lay down with them. It worked for me, I was dog ass tired myself, so before long, I was out cold. I 'thought' they would follow my lead . . . boy was I ever wrong.  

I woke up about two hours later when Willy had finally decided to fall asleep - on me. I rolled over to make room for both of us and noticed that Marvin was not only missing, he was incredibly QUIET . . . never a good thing for a puppy. I went looking for him and instead found the world's largest mess in the living room.  

Marvin, out of sheer boredom I'm sure, had found himself a decorative glass jar of HOT CHOCOLATE. After getting it down from its perch, he chewed off the metal locking rings that keep the glass lid on, managed to pry off the silicone stopper that also held the glass lid in place, and proceeded to treat himself f to 17 ounces of Double Chocolate Hot Chocolate Mix.  

I immediately called the emergency hospital, explained what happened and begged them to save my puppy who I was sure was only moments from death. The doctor called another doctor just to double check his diagnosis, and then called me back to assure me that while Marvin will be 'sorry' he ate 17 ounces of hot chocolate mix, the mix itself is 90 percent SUGAR not chocolate, so it wasn't necessary to bring him in. I was to watch him, give him a little rice because he 'might' have a loose stool from this, and comfort him as much as possible . . . 'he's going to have a bad tummy ache'. So, there I was with my cooked white rice and my comforting love. Poor Marvin I thought - poor dog had no idea he'd give himself such a bad stomach ache.  

Friends, I WISH all he had was a stomach ache. Within two hours it started... and it looked like some sick scene right out of Psycho or a freaky animal horror flick.  

EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA . . . . And I mean EXPLOSIVE.  

Friends, I swear on all that is holy that the force in which this brown liquid nitrogen shot from this poor dog’s ass was enough to shoot and bore a hole thru concrete. And it wasn't just a nice, steady jet stream, ooh no . . . it was a long, ferocious force, like that of a fire hose, that SPRAYED this liquid, brown, noxious crap OVER EVERYTHING . . . and I mean EVERYTHING. Walls, drapes, carpet, couch, chair, ottoman, fireplace, you name it - it was covered in it.  

Marvin just fell to the floor in shame and embarrassment and was now REALLY started to dislike Hot Cocoa. His belly rumbled so loud you could feel the vibrations thru the carpet. I tried so hard to be calming and soothing and compassionate, but the SMELL was melting my eyebrows. I started to clean it up, picking Mom's furniture as the most important place to start, when my gag reflexes just couldn't be controlled anymore. Before I knew it, I had added to mess, by puking my guts up...  

Unfortunately for Willy, he was right in my path.

Yes, I'm sorry to say I hurled on my dog.  

Willy was so utterly disgusted and grossed out, he just stood there in complete shock. He was dripping with ick so I couldn't very well walk him thru the only part of the house that wasn't covered in dog shit, so I had to drag him outside. Understandably, a dog's first instinct is to SHAKE OFF whatever is on him, but before he had a chance to do that, I grab hold of his head, which of course meant grabbing hold of my own VOMIT, and held it still as I pulled him out the door to HOSE him off.  

God bless little Willy.  

While we were outside, Marvin decided he needed to lie down and rest his belly. He crawled up onto the futon where he planned to take a long winter's nap and forget all about this horrible experience. Only problem was - his belly and his bowels had other plans.  

Without notice, without warning and without any fire siren at all, Marvin shot out another G-force explosion of now very liquid and very hot Cocoa. All over the futon, all over the walls, all over the curtains, all over the laundry basket - all over EVERYTHING.  

At this point I just wanted to cry. I couldn't clean it up without tossing my own cookies and I now had less than 12 hours before Mom returned home.  

SHOOT ME NOW.  

My first concern was Marvin....he was really feeling like shit....but not as much as Willy would be in about ten minutes. I thought that the ten gallons of MUD that had shot out of Marvin's body would be all there was to it, but I HORRIBLY WRONG. Before I knew it, he hopped off of the Futon with a funny look on his face. I knew it was coming so I coaxed him down the hallway in hopes of making it outside before the next geyser blew. He didn't make it . . .  

And neither did Willy.  

As Marvin was heading down the hallway, Willy trailed behind - and was in the direct line of fire when Marvin broke loose again. Willy's entire face was covered in it. His chest, his ears, his paws - everything. It was now also on the hallway walls, the hallway carpet, 3 doors and a leather jacket that hung from a doorknob.  

Willy was OVER IT. He stood there covered in this crap stew and just growled at Marvin . . . his white teeth being the ONLY part of him that was not oddly brown. Once again I found myself grabbing his head, this time full of DOG SHIT, holding it steady so he wouldn't shake and taking him BACK OUTSIDE for another hose down. Oh yeah, did I mention it was RAINING while all of this was happening - even better if we BOTH got soaked.  

Needless to say, by the break of dawn I was STILL trying to clean the house. Marvin's mud bombs had slowed to a trickle and he was sleeping off his sugar high. I wouldn't be getting any sleep this day, because in less than 5 hours, Mom - a.k.a. CRUELLA - would be returning home. I cleaned as much as I could, hurling and gagging along the way, so that when she came home it wouldn't look like a chocolate cow had just been slaughtered in her house.  

I worked diligently, but no one woman was going to be able to tackle this mess alone. When Mom returned to what she used to call her home, we rented a Rug Doctor and a few gallons of cleaner. Most of the walls had been already been scrubbed, leaving only the carpet and furniture to contend with. I scrubbed and steam cleaned until 3:15 in the morning. It was now officially Tuesday morning and I had been dealing with this since early Sunday night. Put a fork in me - I'M DONE.  

We finally accepted defeat as we both stood in the living room at 3 am that morning. Come the open of business in the morning we would call in the pros.

So, here I sit, Wednesday afternoon - waiting on the pros. They're bringing in the big guns . . . the steamer, the deodorizer, the Napalm . . . whatever it takes. I'm exhausted and the smell of DOG CRAP has started to permeate my skin, but at least Marvin is feeling better.  

As a matter of fact, I just passed him in that infamous hallway not too long ago. He was cuddled up in the corner with a stolen plastic spatula, a slipper and an empty Toll House Cookie bag.  

Animals. Gotta love 'em.