The unfamiliar 2am squelch

Following our previous brunch at the Holly Bush after which Mirinda took the girls for a long walk, we decided to do it again this week. Mirinda was in charge of booking and she decided we’d go an hour later.

The later booking was so that I could watch some cricket. Which I did.

Not a lot of cricket but at least I watched around 11 overs before the leaden clouds became too full of water to support themselves and drenched everyone.

It was a much more relaxed time than it had been at 2am when Freya’s tummy decided to make my life a misery.

She had gone downstairs, something she never does in the middle of the night. She prefers to sleep. Not just at night either. She is a gold medal, Olympian of a sleeper. So it was a bit of a surprise.

My addled brain assumed she was thirsty (or hungry) and had gone down to the laundry for some relief. She had gone downstairs for some relief but it wasn’t for anything going in.

My addled brain spent a few minutes working out what she could be up to and, like a chandeliers worth of light bulbs going off above my head I realised she must want to go to the toilet.

Freya doesn’t use the doggy door. She has a problem pushing the flap open. Sometimes, if she’s lock outside and Emma is inside laughing at her, she might make the ultimate sacrifice and get through but, generally, she avoids it. She prefers to stand on the terrace, staring beseechingly at anyone standing inside to open the door.

As far as going out through the doggy door is concerned, it’s never going to happen.

I staggered downstairs and opened the back door for her. As soon as I opened it, Freya raced outside. Given I hadn’t bothered to turn any lights on, the white blur of her fur was all I could see. I stepped backwards. I instantly regretted it as something hot, wet and squishy was forced between the toes of my left foot.

Obviously I hadn’t been quick enough in letting her out.

I was now in a sleepy head induced quandary. I couldn’t walk to the laundry to clean my foot and I didn’t have access to anything where I stood. One legged and wobbly, I helplessly stared into the darkness, trying to wake my brain up enough to help me.

The answer was right in front of me. I stepped outside and scraped my foot across the outside tiles. A number of times. It was dark so I had to be sure.

I then hobbled, gingerly into the laundry where I managed to lift my foot into the sink for a damned good hosing down with scalding hot water and soap.

Still half asleep but with a clean and dry foot, I then bent to the task of cleaning up Freya’s butt emissions. It was decidedly gross but was soon complete and we all returned to bed.

It wasn’t until later, when I woke up naturally and went down for my coffee, that I realised she’d started before getting to the back of the extension. I then, pre-coffee, cleaned up the extra mess.

It was not a good start to the day, unlike the cricket which was definitely a good start. Even if it was cut short by the weather.

Of course, by the time the rain was pouring down, I was happily sitting in Max. Mirinda, on the other hand, was still out in it, walking with the girls. All three returned, decidedly drenched but nonetheless, happy for it.

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