Harley, AKA the Poo Picaso.

We came home from work yesterday and opened the door to a scent unmistakable - shit.

Harley had an 'accident' of epic proportions. Numerous piles all over the upstairs carpet, all in varying consistencies. You can pick out the route he took when he freaked out about not getting outside. At least he wiped his paws clean before he tracked it downstairs...

I changed out of my favorite work pants and sweater and donned old sweats a ratty tank and rubber gloves. I gagged through picking up what I could and J gathered spray bottles and the carpet cleaner (Yes, R, we thoroughly cleaned your machine!). It took us an hour and a half, but I think we got it up.

Harley and I had a good long talk before I left for work this morning. There should be no confusion now. Any upset tummies or accidents, in emergency situations only, should be confined to the lanoleum. I'm glad he and I got that straightened out.

Now if I could just remove the remainder of my nose hairs that still cling to that smell...