So, this morning, as usual, I take Sundance to the park. As usual, he picks his poop spot with painstaking care (I wonder what, exactly, constitutes a good poop spot in a dog’s eyes?). And he commences pooping. And he keeps pooping. And he keeps on keepin’ on. And after a few minutes, I realize he’s got a hanger. Crap. Literally. A big dingleberry, just hanging out of him. He looks ‘round at me with this, “Good lord, can’t you help me?” look on his face. Pitiful. Thing is, I don’t want to help. It’s icky. And it’s something no one should ever have to do… pull poop out of some other creature’s butt. Nope. It was not on my agenda this morning. But he’s waddling around, still in poop stance, a few feet forward every minute or so, clearly hoping it’s just going to drop out of him. But it’s not dropping anywhere. It’s still just a hangin’. Nice. Crap. Literally. So I bend down, holding my breath, making sure the pick-up bag is wrapped firmly around my hand, and I reach for it, up close to his butt, figuring I can separate it from his hiney pretty quickly. But it doesn’t separate. It’s still hanging. Crap. Literally. So I roll my eyes, say a swear word (or two), grab it (bag still covering my hand, mind you), and pull. And pull. And pull. The poop is attached to something… something very long (like nearly a foot long!!). I don’t know what it was and I didn’t want to look too closely (but it sort of resembled that raffia stuff you see wrapped around country crafty crap... not so literally... in Michaels). I can’t think of anything he could have eaten the past day or so that would look like that (unlike the time he ate the streamers from Ryan’s bike handlebars and I had to pull foot-long sparkly ropes of poop out of his butt for 2 days).
Anyway, that was my Monday morning. How was yours?