-A mama, mutt, marine short story
Y’all. It’s getting real around here. Real ridiculous. We had a long, but fun, day. Jesse and I finally got the kids down, he starts playing video games and I sit at the table to check emails and fall into the mindless rabbit hole that is social media. Dogs are a little stressed from nearby fireworks but we put their thunder shirts on and go about our business.
It’s quiet.
It’s calm.
It’s relaxing.
Until from out of nowhere I hear a thump and a PSSSSSSSSS noise come out of the kitchen.
CRAAAAAPP
What is it now?I run out to the kitchen and find Copper huddled and shivering in the corner. In his panic he had somehow knocked over a spray can of paint, kicked the lid off and busted the sprayer so it’s stuck in the “on” position. It’s now spinning and spraying tan paint all over the place.
Okay. Not bad. I just have to put the lid back on and we’ll throw it out.
Great plan.
Except there is a 65lb terrified/frozen dog standing between me and this paint can. I shove him out of the way, try to grab the paint and then realize that the clumsy oaf of a mutt broke the lid so it’s no longer functioning in any capacity of containing paint. Which is still spraying all over. So my only option is to cover it with my hand and hope for the best.
Thank the good Lord above, Jesse heard the original commotion and quickly assessed what was happening as he turned the corner, sprung into action like the well oiled machine that he is, and pushed open the screen door as I came barreling across the kitchen and threw the whole thing into the backyard like I had a live grenade in my hand.
Paint came off the kitchen floor easily. My hands? Not so much. Apparently normal dish soap does not work on spray paint. It just made it stickier. Until I grabbed my lemon oil. Now my kitchen and my hands smell like lemony goodness. And the only trace of our latest misadventure is on the back lawn, the tan mist lingering in the kitchen, and my tired soul.
