it rained last night

most of you are probably thinking, so what it rained, no big deal. well, perhaps the bulk of you aren't living in a brand new house with spankin' new carpet, have giant mud pits for a front and back yards or own the world's most deviant 68 lb pooch. for those of you who can't figure this one out, allow me to illustrate my morning:

marshall wakes me up earlier than usual today, grr, at 7:15. too tired to take our morning walk around the park, i opt for the back yard. i throw on some clothes, find my shoes and leash up the pooch. thinking ahead, i know it rained last night and there may be a few puddles that marshall will find his way into, so i grab a towel from the closet for safe measures.

having barely opened the back door to survey the damage, marsh hightails it down the stairs into what looks like a mud wrestlers dream. (someone needs to learn how to hold it better.) marshall is already frolicking in the mud before i can register what i've gone and gotten myself into.

after 5 minutes in mud heaven, i decide satan's had long enough to romp. i start coaxing him back to the stairs; however, he is not interested. marshall is more concerned about what's going on in the front of the house. as he starts to walk away from me, i tug on his leash to get him to come over. apparently this freaks him out and he goes into panic mode and digs his paws into the mud. the only way i am able to round him up is to go over there myself and slowly lead him to safety.

needless to say, in doing so, i realize my backyard is somewhat comparable to quicksand but yet mixed with nails, wood chunks, fence posts, branches and other household items, ie a salt shaker (seriously, there is one back there, i have no inclination as to where it came from). with every baby step i take, i hear my once purple, now brown crocs, get suctioned deeper into the mud pit.

still whining in despair, marshall looks at me with his little sad puppy eyes. coated in a 10 pounds of mud, i make it to the pooch and lead him to safety, also known as the concrete slab. i try scraping the first 5 pounds of mud off my one croc but realize it's no use.

i kick off my shoes and lead marsh up the stairs. with the towel i brought out before hand, thinking it would save the day, i start peeling hunks of mud out from the pup's paws. this is going no where fast. he's becoming panicked and quite concerned. my only other option: the bathtub.

yes, my shiny new stark white tub. i tie marshall to the steps, quickly run inside, throw on the water and grab yet another towel. i unhook the beast from his leash, pick up the svelte 68 lb pup and haul ass to the bathroom. *side note: i have never given marshall a bath before. when it's time for him to get sexified, we head over to groomingdale's pet spa.* as soon as his paws hit the bottom, his legs become like jello and he plops down in the muddy water.

i'm not sure, but think i have the world's most "special" dog. while laying in the now murky brown water, he proceeded to lap it up. i let him do it a few times because it was keeping him occupied while i removed the gobs of mud from between all four paws. having successfully cleaned the pooch, i pull the plug on the drain. not a smart move. it appears a certain soaked someone does not care for this noise or appreciate the vibrations it's making in the tub.

quickly, i grab the other towel and wrap it around him like a little pig in a blanket. being that the bathroom isn't spacious enough for the two of us to sit comfortably on to dry off, i carry the beast into the kitchen and plop us both down on the floor. marshall stares up at me with those sweet little brown eyes as if only to say he's sorry. we both know the truth though, given the opportunity, he'd do it all over again.

thankfully, my carpet survived...the bathtub, well, i think she'll muster through too. i rinsed all the mud chunks and grass out already and am getting ready to head back in with the bleach. that marshall, what a dirty dog!