I had been cleaning the house and vacuuming (and whatnot), so I put all of Maggie’s toys on top of her crate. She physically saw me put her favorite squeaker Dino up there, but she was already in her crate for the night.
So, in the morning, I took her out and let her roam while I was in the shower—our normal routine. When I got out of the shower, I saw her on the bed (which is where she usually is) except I noticed she was chewing on a toy! I knew there were no toys in the bedroom, so I went out to look, and—yes, she had pulled every single toy off her crate, and they were scattered everywhere! I could just imagine the mischevious look on her face as she did this! So I was lovin’ on her something fierce—she was just so cute.
So I keep getting ready and I walked back into the bedroom and she looked guilty as sin. You know the look—ears back, puppy dog eyes, the whole nine yards. I immediately look around the room, expecting to see fluff/stuffing all over the place…but no. Instead? A pile of poop vomit. Yes, folks, poop vomit. She had apparently eaten her poop that morning when I left her alone to put a load of laundry in. (Typically, I stand there and watch her like a hawk, to prevent such things, but I’ve been doing that for months and she’s been good, so I thought I could leave her alone. HA! She fooled me.) So…it obviously upset her stomach and she puked it up. Let me tell you how fun that is to clean, especially as I’m running around half dressed trying to get ready for work—and, oh yes—as Tom was calling as well! So I get it cleaned up and I go in to check my email and—OH. MY. GOD. There was another poop vomit pile. GRRRRRRRRRR. She obviously did that one first and I just missed it.
I have to say I like the Angel Maggie better.