One of the dogs is sick.

Not one of my dogs — one of Baby H’s dogs. She’s elderly and frequently sick, though when I was hired I was told both dogs were “low maintenance” and “never a problem”. In actuality, both dogs are … challenging. They are large (80-100lbs) and do not listen to a word I say. They are sweet, but not exactly well behaved. They frequently get into things and make messes, and if I am not careful, they will steal the food right off Henry’s plate.

I was also told at that point that they planned to continue the services of the dog walker, who came daily to feed and exercise them. That lasted about a month before they quietly let her go and I assumed her responsibilities. I don’t walk them, but I am in charge of feeding them and letting them out. I don’t mind this, but I do mind that these duties were added in direct opposition to what I was told before my hiring and without any discussion or acknowledgment of my added duties. Also, I’d wager that there is a link between their lack of regular exercise and their destructive behavior.

Anyway, as I was saying, one of the dogs is sick. And not in the laying-around-not-feeling-well sort of way. In the diarrhea-all-over-the-carpet way. And, as much as I might have liked to ignore it and leave it for my employers to deal with when they got home (because cleaning up doggie diarrhea is DEFINITELY not in my job description), I couldn’t just leave it festering for hours. It took me over an hour, down on my hands and knees scrubbing with carpet cleaner and disinfectant, to get reach the point where it was passable.

When my boss got home, I told him what had happened so that he could watch the dog and make sure she didn’t get sicker. His reaction, “Ugh, gross. I hope she doesn’t do it again.” No apology that I had to deal with it. No thanks for cleaning up the mess. No acknowledgment that this was not — by any stretch of the imagination — my responsibility.

When I arrived this morning, my other boss informed me that it had in fact happened again later that night. In fact, he has spent the entire morning banging around, griping and complaining about having to clean it up.

If I hear one more martyred sigh, my head might explode.

Thank god it’s Friday.

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