A crappy start to the day.

6:02 a.m.

Reese's panicked voice from the hallway breaks into my dreams:

"Mom, I stepped in something!"

As a sad commentary on the un-hygenic state of our home lately, I knew instantly what had happened.

Logan, the Westie we adopted in April, had yet another incident. And this time he didn't mess around. With his mess, that is.


Twenty minutes and one million paper towels later, not to mention a generous dousing of this probably toxic stain remover called Nature's Miracle, we're still miles from a miraculous recovery. Luckily, or unluckily, our carpet has been ready for replacement since we moved in four years ago. But, we've been waiting until we're a bit more in the clear from moments like this.

When exactly that will happen remains to be seen.

Oh, I love my dogs. I LOVE LOVE my dogs. But for some reason the three dogs we've owned in six years have all had something very wrong with them: a biter, a tearer-upper, and now, a serial pooper and pee-er.

Oh my.

I'm starting to think it's me.

Can someone fail miserably at dog ownership? Perhaps I am blazing the trail over here.

Your tips, stories, or recommendations on stain removers welcome.


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