This weekend was of the rainy variety, making it interminably long for dogs to tolerate. Weekends, in their opinion, are for extra walks, trips to the park, and running around in joyous abandon as often as possible. Rain makes this hard, because they don’t like going outside. It doesn’t make it impossible, because they are capable of being flexible with their plans when they have to be. That makes the weekend different for the people too. All of that canine energy has to come out somehow, somewhere. So they wrestle, growl, gnaw, and sneeze at each other for hours and hours when it’s raining. That’s all cute to watch, but when your dogs are not normal-sized, it makes life kind of hazardous. Buster and Molly (combined weight = 165 pounds) start going at it, and furniture is moved, coffee is spilled, and we have to pause the TV because they get so loud with each other.
This was the scene on Sunday — commotion — when suddenly we heard Buddy join in the scrum. He was scrambling and running, his feet slipping all over the wooden floor as he tried to tear around the room. Greg’s first thought: Buddy has a mouse! Then Bud’s feet hit the carpet and he was able to really run. He came shooting out of the dining room into the living room and turned hard left. Just then something sort of flew off him and landed on the Wii balance board. Mouse!! said Greg. Not mouse!! said I. Upon further inspection, it turns out I was right (no suspense there).
What had actually happened was that Buddy was being prissy and gay about pooping outside, so he started to take a dump in the dining room. At some point on Friday and/or Saturday, it seems he ate a big wad of grass and hair. So he starts pooping, and during the course of this poopfest, he starts walking forward, which most dogs do (to distribute the poop over a larger area? Who knows…), but then realizes he is being followed. By his own turd, which was still attached to his butt due to the wad of hair, half of which was external, the other half internal. “Something is chasing me!!” his little brain exclaimed. “I should run away!” So off he took, with his own log hanging on for dear life. The harder he tried to get away, it seems, the more it was determined to stick with him. So he took off, scrambling on the wood floor, and made a sharp left in the living room, causing part of the turd to fly off and land on the Wii balance board.
In other news, the Badgers are 5 and 0!! Woo hoo!! Also, Greg broke his finger about a month ago and has been wearing a velcro(tm) cast on it. He just took the cast off, stuck his hand in my face and asked, “Doesn’t this smell god-awful?” Then I kind of barfed a little bit.
