Milo's on strike

So, right now, it's raining. Well, pouring is more like it. And, my window is filled with raindrops slowly making their way down the pane. The sun keeps peeking through, creating a bit of a rainbow effect on the droplets on the window. Beautiful.

Today was hilarious. I wake up late, so no working out. Thus, I am a big, fat pig.


I'm already running late at 9:10 a.m. and all I need to do is take Milo outside and then dodge to the bus stop right down the street. I mean, how simple is that. Every morning, Milo sprints outside to the courtyard, pees, poos and trots back to the front door with a slightly satisfied face on. The process usually takes 3 minutes total.

Well, not this morning, peeps. Since I was already late, Milo decided today was the day he didn't want to poo. That's right, Milo went on a poo strike. Here I am, standing in front of my door, snapping to the bushes and saying "GO!" and Milo would lift his leg like he's peeing while looking back at me as he almost said "Is this what you want?" Well, after the failed attempt to make him poo, I've come to terms with he just won't and that I'll have a mess to clean up when I come home. So, I sprint to my bus stop. It's only a minute walk away, but I get there at 9:23. My bus is supposed to come at 9:23 on the dot. However, I think either the bus was early for the first time in forever or it was running mucho late. So, I run back home at 9:32 to drive to work instead. I come to the realization that to get to work on time, I don't have to leave until 9:45, so I have more time to try and get Milo to poo.


I throw the door open to my apartment and there is Milo on the couch. Well, he knows he's not supposed to be on the couch, so he jumps down and cowers like I'm going to beat him (I hate having an abused dog sometimes). I talk sweetly to him and take him outside. I run with him, I'm covered in sweat and still no poo. I grab his leash, take him to the doggy poo-ing area, hoping that if he smells other dog poo he'll think "Oh yeah! I did need to do that." No such luck.

So, now I return to my apartment, drenched in sweat and my legs eaten alive by mosquitos and that was the closest I've ever come to "accidentally" running into my dog with my foot. Don't be fooled by his cute looks, he's way too clever.

Thus, I start my day with mosquito bites, failing deodorant, using gas money when I didn't think I would and now it's raining. Oh, did I mention I had a fever last night? Eh, low grade, 99.5 It's shaping up to be an intense Monday.

Cute Beagle video? I agree: