I apologize in advance for the following post. If you don’t like poopy talk, forget this post and scroll down to look at the pictures instead.
For the last week (has it only been a week? I could have sworn it was two before counting the days on my fingers), my life has revolved around the business ends of my two dogs.
I woke up Saturday morning with a bathroom (bathroom, not toilet) full of diarrhea, and Annie was attempting to disappear into the floor.
Annie is a very proper dog who believes in privacy and decorum. She does not like other people to know that she poops. She is humiliated every time I go out to scoop poop in the back yard. She hides her face if she can’t completely remove herself from the situation. It’s so embarrassing!
This causes a bit of a problem when her poo gets runny and she can’t hold it in, because she is too embarrassed to tell us, so she goes into the bathroom, spurts all over, and then goes back to bed, and hopes that in the morning it will go away by itself.
Scotty has no such self-consciousness about pooping. Somebody must have read him Everybody Poops as a puppy. Luckily, this gives him enough courage to whine in the middle of the night when he really has to go.
So the last seven nights I have been listening for whining, and not whining, and the click of doggy toenails on the wood floor of the bathroom, jumping up at false alarms, and dozing to wake up to that sadly familiar smell.
I have been unable to catch Annie before her bathroom raids, so after a few trips through the washer and dryer, my bathroom rugs have disintegrated, and my back is considering disintegrating from all the floor scrubbing.
One night, Drew tried putting them in the sun room with the back door open so they could go and poop as they please. Unfortunately, he got tired of hearing Scotty barking in the middle of the night, and as a favor to the neighbors (I guess), he decided to close the back door and leave them in the sun room with no way out and no one to ask to please let them out.
The resulting devastation is best left to the imagination, although I would gladly have left a smell-o-gram for Drew, who slept through the extensive and pre-coffee clean-up.
Last night, Annie was so tired of the embarrassment of it all, she refused to get out of bed when she really, really needed to go, and ended up with poo all over her bed and herself. Oh, the weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Last Monday, I called the vet. By the sounds of several types of freaked-out animals coming through the line, it was obviously a difficult day at the office. The vet tech basically told me to give them some people diarrhea medicine and come back when I had a real problem.
Today, I called her back and told her the Pepto-Bismol was not making a dent in the problem. It was then that I learned by “diarrhea medicine” she had meant Imodium, not Pepto-Bismol, and maybe I should bring in a stool sample.
Stool sample gathering would not make it onto my list of favorite ways to spend an otherwise pleasant Saturday. The sample didn’t have any creepy-crawlies in it, so I still don’t know why my dogs are pooping goo, but at least I have a veterinary diarrhea-fixing medicine now.
And after an hour of dog-wrestling in the tub, I have two clean dogs. For how long, I can’t say. I can only hope. And maybe catch a nap.