Some days, I get out of bed in the morning and I’m ready to take on the world. Other days, I get out of bed in the morning to discover the world is ready to take a shit on me…just like it did on Tuesday, November 8, 2016; when I woke up to the stench of a giant pile of poo resting heavily on my chest.
And on my forehead. And on my arm.
Turns out, my Chow Chow—elegantly named Cheeto (not only because of his orange fur, but because of his love for the cheesy snack)—was not very pleased that I accidentally slept in an extra thirty minutes.
With the angry Cheeto in my arms, I practically threw him out in the yard so he could take care of business. He didn’t have to, of course, because he already did all over my bed. Remembering that I’m covered in dog poo, I rushed Cheeto and myself inside so that I could shower and get ready for work (which I was already late for).
Cheeto is a simple dog with simple pleasures, but boy can he hold a grudge. I was in the shower for all but 8 minutes—yes, I timed myself—and lo and behold: a masterpiece of doggy-doo-doo has replaced my living room furniture.
The little devil didn’t just ruin my favorite rug, but somehow managed to smear his juices on every fabric and wallspace in sight. I couldn’t believe how much of a mess this animal could produce in such a short amount of time. Time. I didn’t have any. I was late for work.
I finally get to my car and call my favorite housekeeper, Maria, while I’m on my way to work, begging her to help me with the poop storm inside my apartment.
“MARIA, HI! This is Cassidy. Is there any chance you could help with an emergency clean at the apartment? Cheeto destroyed everything with his dogshit.”
“Hola, Cassidy—lo siento. I can’t help you. The company fired me yesterday; I’m being sent back to Mexico.”
Are you kidding me? Maria has been in the United States for literally 30 years, and now she’s being kicked out? For what?
“The authorities found out my esposo accidentally brought a t-shirt into the bathoom with him at a Walmart 15 years ago. They changed their minds about his criminal status and decided our whole family is being deported.”
My mind whirled. Why was today turning out to be such an awful day?
I finally got to work, and settled in with the hoard of files I’d have to sort through in the next 8 hours. At least, I hoped, the work would take my mind off of this morning’s hell.
Opening my window to let some light in, I discovered a flock of birds resting on a tree branch nearby. The scene outside of my window filled me with joy, as nature often does, and I started on my files.
UNTIL the birds started chirping. Maybe chirping is too delicate of a word…the tweets that escaped from their beaks were menacing. Even after closing the window, the sound was too loud to focus on anything but the birds.
Tweet. Tweet. TWeet. TWEET. TWEET. TWEET.
By the time 5 p.m. rolled around, I was desperate to leave and find some silence. Zombie-walking to the parking garage, I mindlessly turned on the car and drove home. I somehow reached my apartment door, exhausted and ready for bed.
I trudged through the foyer, through the living room, recalling the destruction from this morning but choosing to ignore it. I walked past the kitchen, to find Cheeto happily wagging his tail and munching on some Cheetos that he found in the trash—leaving trails of orange Cheeto dust everywhere.
I made it to my bedroom, slid off my work clothes, and laid in my bed–my bed that was dirty and covered in Cheeto’s dogshit. I was too exhausted to care. November 8th had won.
Cassidy Johncox is a senior studying professional writing with a focus in editing and publishing. When she isn’t reading, writing, filming or working, you can find her sleeping — because that’s the only time she isn’t busy.