Saturday, August 08, 2009

Your name is mud. No, wait. That's our yard.

Our yard will be the death of us. Between weeds and loss of top soil, we've been a little overwhelmed by our awesomely huge back yard. Once it is finished, it will look awesome. Until then? Welcome to our own personal hell.

The worst part lately has been the rain. Our summer has been one torrential downpour after another. It's been raining horses and goats. And our yard has become a quagmire of mud. This would not normally be a problem but for the dog. A dog who needs to use the facilities and for some reason cannot figure out how to use indoor plumbing.

When the land is dry and the sun is warm, Monty can do his business in the yard beside the shed. He's quite happy to go in "his spot" as long as you remind him why he is there. Otherwise, he stares at you with huge brown eyes and a goofy grin wondering what game we're playing. The neighbours often get an earful of "Go poop. Go poop. Monty, go poop." Like it's my own sick rendition of Go Fish.

When it rains, the side of the yard by the shed turns into quicksand. And I inevitably forget every time. I think it couldn't possibly be that bad. And then I'm standing out in the filth with 4 inches of mud stuck to the bottom of each of the dog's paws and I can't find my flip flops anymore.

The worst thing is that Monty refuses to go to the bathroom in the rain. And especially refuses in the mud. So not only have I lost a flip flop to the hungry earth, I have a dog covered in mud who plans to drop a deuce the second he walks back into my house.

I can't wait til it snows.

1 comment:

  1. How soon comes the sod?
    How about laying some cement "stones" to walk on and to serve Monty better than a mud hole?


Crap monkies say "what?"