Poor poor rascal, poor poor danny
Dan called me at work today to let me know what he called "the big news." I braced myself for catastrophe; whenever someone preps with "big news" my first thought is "who was hit by a car?" or similarly "who's pregnant?"
No, the big news was that Rascal rolled in poop: wet, smelly poop. He was so disgusting (completely covered in green and brown gop, says dan) that dan had to towel him off outside the house, then pick him up in the towel, then give him a bath inside, and STILL everything smells bad, including Dan himself. I have not yet smelled the damage first hand, but from dan's account it sounds like we're going to have to burn hippies in our house for weeks to de-stinkify the place.
Unfortunately, the way dan told me the story i laughed so hard that i spit on myself. We all have our trials, i guess.