The couch is like the Berlin Wall now. I feel for HRH, I really do. As reigning Queen, she should be in comfort on the couch and the young upstart should be taking the floor.
The washing machine got a break this morning. But that was because I took Rupert out at almost 3.30am last night, before I went to bed, and again at 7am. Then L took him out at 9am and again at 11am. Since he didn't have any water overnight, I don't know where the copious amounts of pee he produced at those outings came from. We may never again sleep for 8 hours at a stretch -- but at least it saved us from cleaning up.
We withheld food for 24 hours, so there's no diarrhoea either. His last poop at 7am was soft but at least not watery, enough consistency to hold its shape as poop. There you go, dog parents talk dirty like this all the time. I hope that's the end of the squirts.
L is now in a quandary. He will leave the house for a few hours to send me to work. The original plan for the times Rupert is unsupervised is for him to be in the ex pen. But L is deadly afraid of coming home to another shit-hit-the-fan clean-up and is toying with the idea of putting Rupert in the bathroom, just like G did.
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