This Can't Be Good, & The Saga Continues

First, the Story of Mr. Bad Dog Chester

I changed the routine tonight and after I went to work, I came home, fed the pugs, then went to knit with a bunch of women for an entire hour-and-a-half.

Stupid me, I should have CRATED Chester, but no, I just put a belly band on him like I always do when I'm going out for a little bit: Friday morning coffee with friends, grocery shopping on Saturday, etc. There hasn't been a problem (after I gated off the stairs and made sure my bedroom door was shut).

I came home to a Crappapalooza. It was everywhere. From everyone's butt. All FIVE OF THEM. My first thought was, "Hey, Chester didn't eat any of these turds, what a good dog!"
Well, I soon discovered why he didn't eat any turds. He was already full. He looks like Octo-mom when she was pregnant. Chester got the lid off the dog food bin, even though it was secured (hah) by a bungee cord. The bin was tipped over, but there was still a little food in the bottom. Sasha's got a belly full, Bugsy got into the act and is slinking around like he was a bad dog looking fondly at toilets as though he could drink from them, Wee is acting self righteous and doesn't look very bloated, Marley is acting confused and the water dish is completely empty (and will stay that way because I'm not going to have a pug explode in the middle of the night).

Oh, did I mention that at some point during the baccanal Chester and Wee had a piddling contest? Yeah, the pads in the belly bands were sopping wet.

Everyone is sleeping in crates tonight. And I keep telling myself: It might be funny tomorrow. It might be funny tomorrow. It might be funny tomorrow.

It's Tomorrow and it's still not funny, but it is becoming vaguely amusing.

Pugs are stubborn. And cute. So people think this means they are stupid, which is not true. They make all kinds of connections that you wouldn't think about. The connections mine are making are that they are thirsty and there is water in the house. Shasha bashed her way in to the shower to see if there was any water on the shower floor. Bugsy keeps standing on his hind legs gazing longingly into the toilets ("If only I could reach! If only!"). Chester licks the water dribbles from the other pugs, and all three of them just STARE at me when I get a drink of water.

Speaking of Sewage (the second saga)

The builder has apparently turned the matter over to his insurance, saying his excavator must have dug it up, but then not taking responsibility for checking (even though he new they were excavating near the sewer). His excuse? The sewer pipes are so old that the excavator hit it and dug it up without even knowing it, and then the sandy soil backfilled so they didn't see a problem. I'm not totally buying it, given the length that was missing.

I course then the builder starts stringing me along about the insurance. Last week he said was supposed to speak with the adjuster Tuesday (2 days ago). Well, yesterday he says, "Oh, you haven't heard from the adjuster?" Then he starts getting pissy -- "I'm not going to ride their ass." Great. Today he's "nice" again and says he called the agent who is going to call the underwriter (which is the same line he gave me a week ago).

Normally, being the wimp that I am, I would have bought all this BS and held off on sending in a complaint to the Idaho Department of Occupational Licenses. Actually, I did hold off on sending it months ago, but it was procrastination because I had no idea where to even begin. That actually turned out to be a good thing, because I added the whole sewer chronology to the saga, and sent the complaint off on Valentine's Day. Heh. Love ya! I hope your license gets yanked! I even quoted some nitpicky bits of Idaho code that he's clearly violating.