sooooo damn nasty!

A "typical" day in my life.
A read a blog from a mom who had been dealing with her daughter's sh*t for weeks. The child is 14, and not only is not potty trained, but finds spreading the love a fun activity.
I had sympathy. Ben's not nearly that bad, but again, he's not against dropping his pants wherever he is in our house, and planting a log on the floor. fortunately when he's done, he has no further interest in it. Wish I could say the same for the dog. I've had to scream more then once... half the time to no one in particular.... he's got a shit in his mouth!!!! ooooohhhh.
Well...... yesterday Ben and I went to ocupational therapy. Our routine is to get there, sign in, and immediately try to go to the bathroom. We do this, and Ben urinates, no problem. When we come out, he goes to play and our therapist immediatly walks over. I say "come on Ben!" and watch him start walking like a cowboy. hmmmmm.... I feel the back of his pants, and sure enough...
We go into the bathroom, and it's VERY loose bowels. While I'm trying to figure the best way to attack this problem, he's digging his hands in his pants.
I stand him on the toilet, try to take his pants down, and I've now desicrated the toilet and his socks. I'm holding him upside down, trying to get papertowels, and praying his ass doesn't hit me in the face. Did I mention I'm in a CROWDED waiting room bathroom?
I finally do get him cleaned up, always have a spare change of clothes, so he's as fresh as he's getting and off to therapy I go.
Later that same night....... I give Ben his bath, read his books, and he's off to sleep. I come downstairs and notice the dog, out back, rolling on the patio... All... isn't he cute... he must have an itch.
I bring him in, and notice he's wet around the neck and chest. One little detail.. we have a pond in the back of our house that the dog has become very interested in.
Once we come inside, I notice he smells. I'm talking to him as if waiting for a response asking what he's gotten into, etc.... I see what I think is a piece of mulch in the THICK hair around his neck. It's soft and slimy and definitly not mulch. It's the back fin of a fish he's dug out of the pond and rolled in. The fish carcass is embedded in his scruff fur. I start screaming I'm going to throw up, I'm going to throw up!!!1 Husband comes in, and dislodges as much of the carcass as possible, and there I am, 9:30pm, scrubbing the dog,
I finished scrubbing him, and am embarresed to admit... I drained the tub, and left it. Perhaps today that will be my only hurtle....????? YEAH RIGHT!!!!