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Sunday night I went to see Urinetown at the Geary Theater with the wife and in-laws. Truly laugh-out-loud funny, Urinetown is a self-aware sendup of a musical, filled with top-notch and appropriately over-the-top performances. The music was very good too.

Although I didn’t notice at the time, I’ve now read that the official slogan on the show’s T-shirts is: “An appalling idea, fully realized.” Well put! Urinetown can’t really be explained. It can only be enjoyed. I recommend it highly.

When I finally fell asleep this morning after the dog barf party, I must have felt guilty when I wrote about wondering why I continue to keep the two large and messy beasts. This is because I dreamed about both of them being hurt and me unable to do anything about it. It was a very upsetting nightmare. And I wouldn’t wish that kind of dream on anyone.

But upon waking I was glad to see both of them alive, well, and hungry for breakfast. Dogfood again! Yum! My turn with the chew toy! Ah yes. I am so thankful to have these furry knuckleheads around to remind me about the smaller and often more meaningful things in life. Now if I could just get all of this dog hair out of my keyboard again.

It’s now almost 5 a.m. and I’ve spent pretty much the previous hour cleaning up dog barf. It just doesn’t get any better than this.

First, my German Shepherd woke me up around 3:30 calling for Huey from inside her crate. We lock her in a cage at night for our and for her protection — for us so she doesn’t wake the whole house and for her so we don’t kill her.

Anyway, the new bright red chew toy she tried to eat the previous evening didn’t agree with her and came back up for a visit. Because of the color and my own sleep interrupted condition, I first thought it was blood and panicked only to be soon more disgusted than horrified.

The hard part was figuring out how I would clean her crate without letting her run around the house dripping vomit because I had nowhere to stash her. It then occurred to me that I could simply remove the carpet she just decorated, which lined the floor of the crate, and stash her back inside her more spartan digs.

Then it was off to the cold garage and the big sink outside to clean the carpet and freeze my hands. But I still don’t think I got the foul thing clean what with all the dog hair embedded in it.

Next, just moments after I finally finished cleaning the carpet, the German Shepherd, and then myself, I hear my Labrador Retriever calling for that same Huey fellow from the next room. We don’t lock the Labrador away at night since she’s older, duller, and usually more responsible than the Shepherd.

But God only knows what made her sick this time because she coughed up enough spew to fill a bucket, and did so right in the middle of the master bedroom floor. There was no chance I could simply pick up this carpet and drag it to the garage. No, this was going to be ugly.

Luckily for me, the Labrador heaving had woken my wife. And amazingly she decided to don the necessary hazmat gear herself to clean the toxic spill. I was sent downstairs to find another quart — yes, we buy it in quarts — of Nature’s Miracle, the best dog accident removal formula on the market. Then it was my job to dispose of the whole mess outside once my wife had scrapped it off the carpet.

Now my wife has staggered back to bed and I’m wide awake with this unique smell I can’t seem to get out of my nose. I’m also wondering again why exactly we have two large dogs. I guess it sounded like a good idea at one time.

At the same time that I sit and watch again Ian McKellen’s riveting performance in his film version of the one-dimensional Richard III, I find myself reading, while I idly surf, of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s ascension in the polls as the front runner of California’s misguided recall. Arnold, of course, has made a career out of playing one-dimensional robots. Coincidence? No doubt. But it made me think that while the bodybuilder of Austria might not be as shrewd as the Duke of Gloucester, he’s no fool either. Mr. Schwarzenegger has has clearly made a friend and ally of Richard Riordan, the state’s leading socially liberal fiscal conservative, and has wasted no time winning an endorsement from President George W. Bush.

Last night my wife, her sister, brother-in-law, and I went to see Aida at the San Jose Center for the Performing Arts. This, of course, wasn’t the Giuseppe Verdi opera called Aida, but the loud and large Disney version by Tim Rice and Elton John. I was ready to be bored and insulted, but it was actually quite enjoyable. Of course, I liked Evita the first time I saw it on the stage so what do I know.

Did someone run the Bay Area through an air cleaner today? It was so clear outside that I could actually see Milpitas from my house on the peninsula. Not that seeing Milpitas up close is that great of an experience, but you get the idea.

Normally I can’t get that kind of view in early August so I’m assuming divine intervention or perhaps alien technology. Like a giant Hoover deployed from Gilroy. Hey, it could happen.

I’ve received several emails asking my how my wife is doing. Thanks for the concern. She’s fine but we’re still waiting to hear from her cardiologist. It’s been over a week and there’s no news about that stress test and electrocardiogram. Maybe he’s the one who’s had a heart attack?