Thursday, February 19, 2015


Once we become parents, we have graduated to not only someone who knows one of the deepest loves possible, but also one who can tolerate just almost any type of bio fluid tragedy. I mean, it's like we become CDC scientists or Wonder Woman or Quincy. Except me. I still can't handle boogers. Or puke. Not a fan of mushy gooey tar poop or urine showers. Ok. So I'm still a pussy.

But when it's your suck it up. You love on them, you wash their dingle berries and you put salve on their pee pees. You even kiss their butt sniffing faces and give them extra love when they don't feel well. I don't know why you would put salve on a dog's pee pee, but if you had to, you would.

Work was long and tiring today plus I had a grueling physical therapy session involving neck traction and deep tissue massage. I pretty much plopped on the couch after I made dinner. That's dinner, also known as supper as in the last meal. Some people call dinner lunch.

As I plopped, I assessed the cigar room as I call my television room because it is manly and probably was a cigar room back in the day. It appeared Bug and the dogs had a party by the toy carnage and array of debris. She told me Murphy was having excessive diarrhea and she was glad he did it outside or on the training pad. Of course in princess style she told me while fake gagging and melodrama. She is her mother's daughter as I am of the same genes when it comes to the "ew" factors.

I thought nothing of it and tried to pinpoint what he had eaten to have troubles. He eats everything. He ate some dried flower arrangements I had, dog toys, and recently he had been ripping up the cheesy fake vinyl squares in the mud room. Now this normally would be alarming to have a dog rip up your flooring except I hate it. I was going to take it up this summer and seal the concrete floor which has character beings it is over 100 years old. Of course, I would rather he just tear it up and not chew on it. So I assumed this was giving him troubles.

All of a sudden I heard the little guy make a discomforting sound and have a mess on the tile, then scoot across the floor. This action made me have a sense of urgency and leap from a comatose position in about 2.5. It was too late.

Bug could not handle it, she said. "Mom, it's gritty and sandy and oh my gosh." I told her to either hold Murphy or help me clean it up. She did her fake gagging routine coupled with screams of horror and ran the opposite direction.

There I am...holding a poor little puppy with a gooey dingle berry who had the skids. Poop ya marks(police term for a type of road traction mark on the highway formed by a vehicle [tires] at a crash site) and an odiferous aroma started to really get to me. It brought back memories of drunks with poopy pants and pee pee drawers.

I worked fast. I held a 20 pound puppy in one arm and loaded the Clorox and Mr. Clean in the mop bucket. Doing this one handed was next to impossible and I looked like a monkey fucking a football. Murphy didn't like it much either as he was really squirming and whining.

This made me squeeze harder but at the same time I was keeping his dingle berry at a distance to avoid getting flying poop on me. Murphy squirmed more. The poop was getting sloshed around the floor with my mop and I was not making much progress. It resembled beef gravy.

I begged my daughter to help me. She would not have it and locked her bedroom door. As if I had one more hand to drag her out by her pony tail. Murphy could not be put down because he would take up the scoots again and then I would be chasing his ass with a mop. Plus, I didn't want him to get it in the carpet. It was definitely not the boot scooting boogie.

Moose kept sticking his nose my face to see what was going on because his buddy was grunting in distress. He sniffed when I mopped and jumped up when Murphy grunted. It was a three ring circus.

This continued for a time until I felt the floor was adequate so I could get Murphy washed. I carried him upstairs all the while he was grunting and miserable. Holding my breath, I was waiting for a butt explosion which made me aim his butt away from me. Plus, I could still see the dingle berry firmly embedded in his curly haired booty. It would have blasted out like shrapnel from an RPG if he had any type of huge bowel catastrophe. As I looked closer, it was like mortar consistency. At least that was my eye ball assessment because I didn't touch it at that time.

I plopped him in the tub which usually makes him happy but he looked worse than Kanye West every time a white person wins a music award. I tried to swish his butt in the water to loosen the dingle berry without touching it, but he got mad. With a turned up nose, I washed him good and pulled the dingle berry out of his fur with my bare hands. I should have won the Nobel Peace Prize for such heroics. It wasn't quite effective, so I donned a scrub brush and got after it like Nurse Helga did at WMC when I got decontaminated from a meth lab. No, I didn't cook it or smoke it. It was a police call. Long story short, she was 300 pounds and the brush was built for Godzilla's ass. We all had to strip naked and get raked by her until we bled. By my speculations, her brush which was two feet long was made of porcupine quills. I'm sure they stuck us in an acid bath after that and then we stood around for hours half naked in a fish bowl trauma room for display in the ER. But anyway, that was 2002. I digress.

Still, with turned up nose (perma snarl), I continued to feel his ass for dingle berries and scrub. Murphy looked at me like I was molesting him and for the first time in my life I felt dirty. His eyes were so sad and he looked downward often. I kept telling him it was for his own good and he would feel better after it was over. Yeah. It sounded like something a molester would say. I know. I mean, I don't know from experience, but I know because I did those type of cases as a detective for over 7 years. And I was grooming him. You know what? This is sickening and these cop puns are not funny when I am talking about my cute puppy.

Anybedazzledbutt, I am sure he was relieved to get rid of the extra load he was carrying around. I looked up and saw some White Rain for Men which had been left behind by Mr. Fire Chief. What the heck. It should be used up and what better purpose than to make Murphy smell nice. I lathered him and he turned up his nose. Apparently, he preferred my dog shampoo with chamomile which he normally eats and licks off. This time he had none of that. I gave him a thorough rinse and cued him to jump out onto a towel so I could dry him off. With no enthusiasm like a true Snuffleupagus, he got out of the tub. Once I dried him off a bit, he ran like a squealed pig around the house. Problem solved.

I then turned my attention to the tub and got some Clorox going to kill all the dingle berry germs and what not. Then a little Magic Eraser, then another Clorox rinse. You can't be too cautious. Being Cinderella was not in my cards. After I settled back down in my comatose state to whine about physical therapy to myself, Bug came out of her closet. She stumbled over my lotion on the floor.

"Mom, I think I found what is bothering Murphy."

"What's that?"

"I think he ate all the lotion in this tub."

"Criminy. We are going to have to watch for butt explosions all night and day."

"You are. I am having none of it. No way."


At least the cream was made of organic ingredients. I wonder if the eucalyptus burns when it comes out.
Cutest dang labradoodle evah even if his butt smells like eucalyptus.


  1. Man, you turned me on. Next time I get the shits I'm calling you.

  2. Our new dog had the MAJOR squirts for about 4 days when she first moved in with us. Greek yogurt and Science Diet seemed to solidify the problem.

    Little shit.


  3. Momma Fargo:
    With an older pet, I've gotten used to those impromptu "rainbow yawns", esp. when the food changes up.
    Having had pets most all my life and having to clean up after them doesn't bother me, although I WILL tell anyone willing to listen how BAD some of it
    You do what's gotta be done.
    They can't help it. They depend on you.

    I will say you do an excellent job with your dogs.

    Good post.

    Roll safe down there.

  4. I was thinking he might need his anal gland cleaned, a lovely little job my sister used to have years ago. When dogs start to scoot their bedazzled butts (love that) across the carpet, sometimes that is the case. She was a dog groomer, and was told to always do that, and sometimes people would bring in their dogs JUST for that. It convinced me to stay in school, among other things :)
    I hope your dog is fine now, and I will have, for a LONG time, the image of a monkey fucking a football in my head. It's funnier than it probably should be!