Breakfast alert! If you are eating, don't read this. Let your breakfast settle first, maybe take a nice walk.
Ahem.
The kids were over for Sunday Supper last night, as usual, and Scott was busy in the kitchen preparing the rest of the pork goulash. I say "the rest" because earlier in the day, Finnigan the lab, aka The Black Bastard had eaten the better part of a pound of juicy, raw Ontario pork.
Anyway, we were watching the Beyonce documentary, wondering what planet she was from and where could we get us some of that planet, when it happened.
Gordie the pug was sitting quietly on my lap when I detected a smell.
I called for Scott and paper towel.
"What happened?"
"Gordie shit in my hand."
I presented the evidence, three perfectly moulded nuggets of poo. Dr. Oz would be proud!
Actually, the scat showed evidence of slight dehydration. I made a mental note to discuss this with Dr. Cohen at Gordon's next visit.
Let's recap. Gordie has shat nearly everywhere on my person except my head. He shat on the back of my knees when I was having a nap, now in my hand, and on my chest while I was in bed one night. When Scott carries him out, because he is also very arthritic, he dumps a load at his feet.
Gordie often likes to save the best for company.
To be indoctrinated into this family, as Stef's girl Melanie discovered at Easter, one has to pass the smell test. Poor Mel nearly upped her chuck while sitting beside Sophie the Pug who is a farting machine.
Marissa's fiance, Jeff, simply takes it in stride.
He was the victim of a shit bomb himself.
That's why all our furniture is leather.
Cleanup in aisle three.
Last night, Jeff was once again there for the main event. Gordie shit in my hand with Jeff sitting right beside me. I covered it up to save Gordie's dignity.
For ther record, Gordie is actually better than when he was a pup. For years, he peed everywhere. When we had our room in the basement, he liked to jump off in the middle of the night, wheeze a little and dump in the bathroom.
It's just the way he rolls.
Now, he rarely pees at all.
Couple of times a day, cause he can't lift his leg anymore.
When he does, he topples over.
Now he just shits. I don't even think he's aware he's doing it.
That sort of takes the fun out of it, if you know what I mean.
You may think it's disgusting, but it's all part of pet ownership.
You get to enjoy a little prick like Gordie from infancy to incontinence.
A dog goes from baby to grandpa in about six seconds, in dog years.
Gotta love 'em.
And now for a little musical interlude.
Ahem.
The kids were over for Sunday Supper last night, as usual, and Scott was busy in the kitchen preparing the rest of the pork goulash. I say "the rest" because earlier in the day, Finnigan the lab, aka The Black Bastard had eaten the better part of a pound of juicy, raw Ontario pork.
Anyway, we were watching the Beyonce documentary, wondering what planet she was from and where could we get us some of that planet, when it happened.
Gordie the pug was sitting quietly on my lap when I detected a smell.
I called for Scott and paper towel.
"What happened?"
"Gordie shit in my hand."
I presented the evidence, three perfectly moulded nuggets of poo. Dr. Oz would be proud!
Actually, the scat showed evidence of slight dehydration. I made a mental note to discuss this with Dr. Cohen at Gordon's next visit.
Let's recap. Gordie has shat nearly everywhere on my person except my head. He shat on the back of my knees when I was having a nap, now in my hand, and on my chest while I was in bed one night. When Scott carries him out, because he is also very arthritic, he dumps a load at his feet.
Gordie often likes to save the best for company.
To be indoctrinated into this family, as Stef's girl Melanie discovered at Easter, one has to pass the smell test. Poor Mel nearly upped her chuck while sitting beside Sophie the Pug who is a farting machine.
Marissa's fiance, Jeff, simply takes it in stride.
He was the victim of a shit bomb himself.
That's why all our furniture is leather.
Cleanup in aisle three.
Last night, Jeff was once again there for the main event. Gordie shit in my hand with Jeff sitting right beside me. I covered it up to save Gordie's dignity.
For ther record, Gordie is actually better than when he was a pup. For years, he peed everywhere. When we had our room in the basement, he liked to jump off in the middle of the night, wheeze a little and dump in the bathroom.
It's just the way he rolls.
Now, he rarely pees at all.
Couple of times a day, cause he can't lift his leg anymore.
When he does, he topples over.
Now he just shits. I don't even think he's aware he's doing it.
That sort of takes the fun out of it, if you know what I mean.
You may think it's disgusting, but it's all part of pet ownership.
You get to enjoy a little prick like Gordie from infancy to incontinence.
A dog goes from baby to grandpa in about six seconds, in dog years.
Gotta love 'em.
And now for a little musical interlude.
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