So for those of you who have visited my page before, you’re probably aware I spend a reasonable amount of time on the floor. So much so that I’ve actually seriously considered making small snack bags to place around the house in case I get stuck there for any amount of time. I decided against that eventually though, having a dog it’s probably not the brightest idea to leave inappropriate foods lying around at dog-level… it’d be bad for him and the greedy shit certainly wouldn’t leave me any!

My most recent “trip” to the floor (see what I did there?) was distinctly undramatic in its coming about; I was actually already kneeling down when one knee disappeared behind me and I very ungraciously ended up flat on my belly. And I was on the vinyl flooring in the kitchen so that would definitely add to the challenge of getting back up by way of lack of grip/traction. Irritating. However things were about to get a lot worse than just irritating as the dog was now stood by the back door, meaning only one thing – he needed the bathroom. Bollocks!!

So the struggle began, desperately attempting to manipulate my legs and pull myself up using any surface I could but when your legs are totally spastic and you are poker straight, prone on the ground there’s really no point. All the while trying to reassure Bentley that Mummy was coming, just wait like a good boy blah blah fucking blah knowing full well I wasn’t getting there in time. Poor boy was hopping about, obviously desperate and then it happened… I could only lay there and watch on as he lost his battle and squatted down over the door mat. I felt so bad for him, he’s a good dog and wouldn’t have done it if he could help it AND he was visibly upset about it, skulking off to his bed after. I did my best to reassure him it was ok, not his fault etc while internally cursing my shitty fucking legs for letting not only me down but my poor boy too! They had crossed a line!! I am what is known as a “crazy bulldog lady” (although the “lady” part is a serious stretch…) and as such, upsetting my beautiful innocent boy is an unforgivable sin 🤬

Anyway, I had to slither like a bloody snake to the stairs, where I know I can right myself using the bannister/spindles etc so another 20 or so minutes later I was sat up, legs crossed just catching my breath from the exertion. From there I got to crawl to see poor distraught Bentley, still in his bed, and beg for his forgiveness in failing as his mum. Later backed up by cuddles and treats, of course. Then, finally I went to clean up the mess and put the doormat in the washing machine. All of that took around an hour but let me tell you, it felt like a fucking day!

Apologies for another story about poo 💩, but at least it wasn’t mine this time!