For those of you with weak stomachs, stop now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Now, on with the post.

My daughter’s chihuahua is named Fancy, Fancy Hairbow, to be precise. When she’s in trouble, which with our daughter is rare, Adelyn will yell, “Fancy Hairbow! You get over here right now!” However, the chihuahua has earned a special place in my life. I’ve discovered that there’s a certain place on a chihuahua that is a perfect match for the end of my Nikes. Just kidding! Please erase PETA from your speed dial.

Honestly though, there’s not much love lost between Fancy and me. I guess picking up poop after three years is getting old. Oh, and there’s Fancy’s love of any rug in the house. And the fact that she barks incessantly at any noise inside or outside. And the fact that she occasionally can knock out a full grown man with her odor.ย  (Fancy, not Adelyn).

You can imagine my dismay Tuesday when upon letting Fancy back inside…

(Her being outside should mean, for any normal dog, an opportunity to relieve herself. However, for this particular creature, being outside means barking. Barking at the cat, barking at visitors, barking at the UPS lady, barking at whatever.)

… I noticed that her bootie was brown. Now, Fancy is normally a light brownish-tan, but this color was definitely a dukey brown. There was a good reason for that, because upon closer examination, I confirmed quickly that it was dukey. Runny dukey. Yep, chihuahua diarrhea. Can life get any worse?

Adelyn, who professes an undying love and devotion for this, this animal, suddenly would have nothing to do with Fancy. A few moments later, it was me, Super Dad and Chihuahua Hater who was spraying Fancy’s dukey bottom off with the sprayer in the kitchen sink. Yep. Then I Cloroxed the whole area.

From that moment forward, Fancy took a steady nosedive into lethargy. She would not get up, she would not bark, and she stayed away from the rest of us. It was wonderful.

However, when Wednesday rolled around, and Fancy was showing no improvement, Carolyn decided that Fancy needed to go to the vet. Of course, that was a great decision for her; she had gone to Hot Springs with some girl friends for Kim Pigott’s birthday. It was an easy call for Carolyn to make from the spa.

So I dropped a pitiful Fancy off at the vet and went to the MEDC monthly board meeting at UAM. That afternoon, we picked her up from the vet after I grabbed the kids from school. The vet had called and said that I needed to come and hold Fancy so they could give her a shot. I wasn’t pleased. I paid $82 for meds, a shot, and a fecal parasite examination and still had to hold a crappy dog (yes, she’d done it again!) while the vet administered a shot.

The vet also did not provide poopy transportation protection. So, upon our arrival at home, I not only had to spray Fancy off and clean her again (and the kitchen sink’s sprayer is so handy), but I had to do the same with my floormat from the car which Fancy had browned like toast. (I used the hose outside for that; I still haven’t figured out why I didn’t clean Fancy off outside either. Mental lapse.)

Anyway, today Fancy seems to be recovering from her bacterial/booty problem. However, I think I need counseling. And a new kitchen sink.

On this day...