My Second Ever Poop Blog!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

A while ago, I posted my first ever poop blog, and I will be happy to link it here, but basically I am against it or at least against thinking about it.

http://www.doodlekisses.com/profiles/blogs/why-is-it-my-first-ever-...

I know it is something we all do, and that there has even been a children’s book written about it called Everyone Poops, but I don’t want to read the book. I don't want to hear anyone say they are in the bathroom when I call or hear a toilet flush or hear someone taking a call in a public restroom.  As far as I am concerned, if that is your standard practice, the next time someone asks what kind of phone you have, you should just answer, "Oh, I have a GermBerry."  I also don't need to see any movie where someone is sitting on the toilet, because while I might not find a potty mouth offensive, a potty scene is an entirely different matter.  Frankly, I am the person most likely to start humming loudly when anyone starts talking about bowel movements and to this day, I am convinced Colin Powell’s mom meant to name him Collin and that is how I refer to him. 

I know it is spelled differently, but seriously, what was she thinking? Are his siblings Pate, Venous, and Palate, when she really meant Pete, Venus, and Paulette? I am also really hoping Colin does not have a brother named Dick, because then I would start to suspect an awkward theme for selecting baby names in the Powell’s household. No, Papa Powell, I don’t like the name Michael. It has to be a body part. Or maybe I have it all wrong and he has a twin named Semi and a sister named Apostrophe.  Still spelled differently, but it all sounds the same to me.

 

What does all this have to do with poop, who knows? I have lost my train of thought; just like I seem to lose everything else I need on a daily basis.  Fudge will wait each day to do her big business until we take our first morning walk. In the back of my mind, I am always thinking that Fudge has to go to the bathroom when we get into the car for that first walk.  Even if I have a quick errand like running to the Post Office, I prefer to do it after our walk, because I feel rushed to get her to the park.  I think it is a mind game Fudge plays with me to get to the park quicker and she wins every time. Some days, we barely get out of the car and she goes, which I like because I don’t have to carry anything gross on our walks and can just leave it by the car to take care of later.  Mostly though, Fudge likes to wait until we are just far enough from the car or a trash can that it isn’t feasible to go back, but instead means I have to carry it forward until another trash can comes along.  I really believe, and there are some members of my family who think I spend far too much time on my conspiracy theories, that Fudge knows the trash can locations and times her morning constitutional so I have to carry it the longest distance. Sometimes, I think in another life Fudge may have been royalty and I was her chambermaid.  Fudge also does not care about the volume she produces, because she kicks back the same amount of covering no matter the size and often times, I end up with grass and dirt halfway up my leg or in my hair, if I happen to be bending over to pick it up.

Queen Fudge

The thing is with all my issues, my dog’s poop does not bother me in any way.  I have a huge Ziploc bag in my car full of poop bags.  Granted most of them are completely unraveled since I seem to drop them every single time I go to fish one out of my pocket, but I decided I needed to figure out a way to keep them where I would need them most.  Despite the fact that I have them in drawers at home, in my camera bag, on every dresser, and in miscellaneous coat and pant’s pockets, I was having far too many days when I would get to some location in our car and have to scurry around for something else I could use to pick up their poop because I forgot the bags, yet again. I have picked up poop in 30-gallon bags, in Kleenex, in cups, with leaves, and once, with an envelope. Seriously, because of my terrible memory I was turning into MacGyver when it came to finding ways of picking up their daily deposits, so things are better now that I just keep the whole lot of bags in my car.

Next up on my agenda is fastening an antibacterial soap holder with the soap inside into a pair of earrings that I can’t take off.  I thought this up after I used a particularly flimsy poop bag one day to pick up Fudge’s poop and found my hand going straight through the bottom of the bag and right into the poop.  Again, I have about 3000 antibacterial everythings as if my name is Mrs. Monk, yet never when I need it, and that day I had to walk back to the car and pray that my clean hand could locate one somewhere. Luckily, it did and later I found a bathroom and scrubbed further. 

The funny thing was I didn’t freak out and remember saying to John, “crap, do you believe this just happened?”  Yet, have any person, large or small, turn to me and say, “I just made a doo doo in my pants,” and I will be that person who starts gagging and runs screaming from the room.  I have already told John that will be the last he will ever see of me if he decides someday that the toilet is too far away to bother with and he starts using a “backup” plan.  I could see him weighing his options, but all he said was, “good to know.”  If I happen to flip the TV to any talk show discussing healthy end results and what to look for, I flip the channel and shake my head in wonderment that anyone turns and has a “meet and greet” before leaving the bathroom. Seriously, what happened to Mr. Whipple squeezing the Charmin?

Now we have bears running around with toilet paper stuck everywhere while I am trying to decide when did bears start using toilet paper.

Yet, Fudge and Vern go and you would think they just laid a golden egg as I tell them what a great job they did and congratulate them on their well-formed poops.

On our cruise, Leslie had a lovely expression, “dropping the kids at the pool,” and it was just coy enough that I could believe that someone was really dropping their kids at the pool. I like anything that can allow me to avoid the dirty reality, unless of course, it has to do with Fudge and Vern and then it is perfectly acceptable to discuss.

P.S. Of course, I hate to beat F to the punch, but I know she is going to tell me why Colin Powell pronounces his name that way, so I took the liberty of linking this, so she doesn't have to worry about it :) It lets his parents off the hook, but it didn't stop me from taking liberties with my blog.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colin_Powell

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

LOL, Doris!!

[Doris, Knox & Flash]

Laurie, I am reading this blog at 12:30 a.m. and think it's hysterical that you can waste your time writing about such a poopy subject! What a load of crap, lol!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Nancy, I know....makes no sense to me :) Poor Ned...he likes his own bathroom.

DJ, Poor guy :) LOL

[Nancy, Ned, Clancy, and Charlie]

And Colin Powell - changed the pronunciation himself? - Why would he do that?  I do NOT like the t.p. bears at all and can't believe they tell us on TV to enjoy the go.  Ned is such a reluctant pooper  when we camp that I don't much care if we are near a trash can, but that the walk will be OVER!

[DJ & Chance]

ROFL, I will never, ever be able to say, "Colin Powell" again with a straight face!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Lonnie, LOL...thank you!!

Joanne, LOL....see Roger and I think alike :)

Barbara, I am glad I am not the only one!

Cheryl, What are you doing posting a picture? LOL I expect that from Donna and Sheila, but not you :)

[Lonnie & Libby Lu]

OK Laurie, information overload here!  I thought only "older" people talk about poop!  Oh dear, I am one of those older people. Loved the blog, very cute, and now I know all about Vern and Fudge's daily dump and how your process it:)  LOL

[Joanne ~ Spud*]

It is a good way to keep people from wanting to stop and talk to you on your walk. Just stand there swinging a bag of hot steaming poo and those unwanted chatters are off and running

[Joanne ~ Spud*]

Roger says the same thing, " dogs always poop when your furthest from a trash can"
We used to seek out the laziest neighbors, you know the ones who never bring in their can after the garbage has been picked up until days later, and dare one another to sneak the stinky poo quickly into the can and not be seen. Otherwise you have a poopbag in your hand or forget about it in your pocket and wonder why your house stinks? Ugh, I've done that.
Poop Happens

[Barbara B., Sasha & Oliver]

LOL.... I have put my fingers right thru the bag and into my doodle's poop as well.  Thank God I was home and soaked my hand in bleach.