September 4, 2011


I could've taken Zoe to the beach today.  We would have had a great time. But I decided not to as I'm still recovering from a cold and the thought of the long drive there and back was a deterrent. But since I'm easily bored and don't like sitting around, I decided to work outside with Charles and Zoe.

Now, I've lived in Charleston for eight years now, six of which have been in this house.  My dog Quentin has been an "outside dog" for that entire time. He has a little fenced off area in the back of our yard with a tarp-roof and an igloo-shaped doghouse (the dog-a-loo). He gets locked up there at night, when we're away and when there are thunderstorms. The rest of the time, he has full run of the yard.

So. Six years with this setup.  And every six months or so I pull out the dog-a-loo to clean it up for him.  So, let's say I've done this twelve times...that might be an over-estimate, but I've done it a lot.

Every time I do this, I encounter spiders. I'm used to that.  Webs and egg sacs line the bottom of the dog-a-loo. I spray them off with a hose, wrinkling my nose in disgust every time, but I figure it's part of life.  Quentin is outside all the time; he's used to the creepy-crawlies.  And anyway, he's protected. He has Advantix!

And there's never been anything worse than a few spiders.

So today I wandered back to the dog pen and carelessly yanked on the dog-a-loo to start pulling it out. It's heavy and bulky so it always takes me a few minutes to get it out of the pen.  So I yanked and pulled and pulled and yanked...and then...


There were thousands of roaches scurrying out from underneath!

Holy crap, I almost cried!!!  They were everywhere, crawling over everything. There were big ones, little ones and every size in between.  Some were decapitated or otherwise mutilated by the sliding of the dog-a-loo. Others remained intact but were flipped over onto their backs and thus temporarily stuck with their legs wriggling frantically in the air.  

I jumped back, cursed loudly (I believe I said the dreaded M-F word), and ran danced around in a little "I'm so grossed out I don't know what to do next" kind of way.  I ran to the front to tell Charles what I'd found...he was neither surprised nor horrified....and then I decided it was time for battle.

I pulled out a broom, a rake, another broom and I carried them all to the dog pen.  I grabbed the trash can and the hose. I put on a surgical mask (because who the hell wants to breathe in roach-poop, right??) and gloves.  I was ready for action.

Until the next time I moved the dog-a-loo, when another monster-roach flew directly at my face.


But still, I was undeterred.  

Every time I moved the dog-a-loo, more roaches scurried away.  Every time I swept the broom or the rake, something else flew towards me. I was getting desensitized very quickly.

Until, that is, I raked at the collected leaves and dirt again, and this time something HUGE and SCARY hopped out of the pile.  


This time, it was a full-blown Michael-Meyers-is-on-my-ass horror-movie scream.  Charles poked his head out back.

"Will you please stop screaming? The neighbors are going to call the cops."

It was just a toad. He's been cohabitating with Quentin for quite some time, but I'd forgotten he existed until that very moment.  Now that I think about it, no wonder he's been living there! He must be eating like a KING!

That was pretty much the final scare for me. Nothing else could compare to the toad.  I managed to clean up most of the mess, but Charles came to the rescue and sprayed out the entire pen.  I washed out the dog-a-loo (There were spiders! And egg sacs! But these didn't even come close to bothering me in my post-roach world!), but Charles moved everything back into the pen later on.

And I? Hours later? Even after a shower? Ew! I still have the creepy-crawlies/heebie-jeebies/grossed-out nastiness about me! 


But this is going to be a GREAT scene in my book!

1 comment:

Jocelyn Rish said...

Oh dear. This is so horrible. And so hilarious. And I hate roaches, so now I'm going to have nightmares.

Post a Comment