Out, damned spot!

This phrase was clearly on my mind this morning. Last night we were awakened by Maggie, our neurotic Border collie mix, whose stomach released its contents repeatedly throughout the evening. Both Charlie and I bolted from our bed to the sound of her retching and looked for the offending spot without success. As luck would have it, it was found later in the night by Charlie as he stepped in the remains while taking her downstairs for one of her many visits outside.

In the morning, I surveyed the damage, five spots in the living room and another in our bedroom. Perhaps the choice of woolen berber carpeting in our bedroom was a poor one given how hard it is to clean. So, after sending everyone off to school I set out to clean the offending areas.

In Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Lady Macbeth speaks this line as she is sleepwalking and imagines the king’s blood staining her hands.  She continues by saying "Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red" reflecting the guilt she feels, which is spreading, and cannot be contained.

For me, cleaning is cathartic. It offers a clear challenge to fix a visible problem. The more difficult the stain, the more satisfying it is to make it clean. My cleaning fetish extends beyond the carpet s to clothing and laundry as well. I know that different stains react to certain cleaners differently, and keep an arsenal of products available for use.  My identity tied in no small part to my success.

This isn’t to say that I welcome the spots that the dog creates, or even that I can contain my anger for being awaken in the night knowing that I will need to clean the spots that have been made. But, there was a small degree of guilt that went along with this stain as well. Maggie has been especially neurotic lately, and has taken to chewing up hardback book covers left in the living room. We already supply her with a fresh pheromone collar each month to ease her nerves. At the end of each cycle, the destruction returns letting us know that it is time to replace her collar again. Knowing that this was not the case this time, I thought that I would redirect her chewy angst by supplying her with an artificial bone. I never anticipated that she would find and devour it in such a short time, making for a very happy dog that turned sick in the night.  Along with her neuroses, she is plagued with a sensitive tummy.

I think my obsession to clean spots is more about controlling the things at hand. If I give up on removing the whole spot, I look at what remains each day, reminding me of my dog’s faults. Removing spots is also about problem solving in general. I prefer the problems with obvious solutions to the ones that linger unsolvable because of too many potential outcomes. So, things like finding the best cleaning solutions, dandruff shampoo, or allergy pills are one of the many challenges I rise to with gusto.

My rather rocky relationship with Maggie falls into the more frustrating areas of my life. Because she seems to have come to a settled happiness late in life, and she is too smart for her own good, she has come to expect things from us. For instance, she knows that I don’t work on Fridays, and responds with destruction if I leave the house without her. Unfortunately, dogs are barred from many of my Friday activities. So, when the phrase “out, damned spot” comes to mind, sometimes it could be applied to the removal of my dog from my life as easily as the spots she leaves behind.