What Can Be Worse Than Turning 50?

I thought turning 50 would be devastating, but it wasn't. Not when compared to all the other things that happened the first thing in the morning on my 50th birthday.

Every morning, I ensure Macey makes it from the kennel to the back door in less than 15 seconds. This is the amount of time it takes for her to register a full bladder. That didn't happen this morning.

I had been so proud of her, too. She has never made a dropping in her kennel until this morning, the morning of my 50th birthday. Did I mention that I'm 50 today?

Not only did Macey make a rather large deposit, but it was a loose one. She was so distraught over it that she tried to escape it, trampling it again and again. I can only imagine from the looks of things, she must have made several attempts to rid her paws of the foul smelling goo.

This cleanup job would need some forward thinking. The longer I stood there and contemplated my first moves, the more Macey yiped with anxiety. I made a decision. I would clean the ten-pound puppy first, put her outside, and then tackle the rest of the mess in a methodical approach. I was not prepared for the sheer force of puppy power when I opened the kennel door. Macey sprang from her cage and plowed into my arms.

Fuck me, right?

So, I cleaned and disinfected everything, including her squeaky toy and tug rope. I placed a new puppy training pad in the kennel. I brought Macey back inside to feed her. I bumped the glass beaker off the table and it fell onto the ceramic floor, shattering it into a thousand pieces. The loud noise scared Macey. She sprinted across the kitchen to the other side and pissed on the floor.

Now, if you're having a bad day, cheer up! It could be worse. You could be turning 50.

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